















) 


\ 


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WOLVES OF THE SEA 













she cried. “If you must kill someone, kill 
me!” 




WOLVES OF THE SEA 


BY 

GASTON LEROUX 

AUTHOR OF “THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT,” “THE 
MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM” 


FRONTISPIECE BY 

H. J. PECK 


NEW YORK 

THE MACAULAY COMPANY 


PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER 
THE TITLE “THE FLOATING PRISON” 


Voe 1 


COPTRIGHT, 1923, 

By THE MACAULAY COMPANY^ 



PRINTED IN THE IT. S. A. 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Number 3216. 9 

II In the Hold. 46 

III Sister St. Mary of the Angels .... 66 

IV Terror on Board.85 

V The Attack on the Store-Room .... 102 

VI Cheri-Bibi. 115 

VII The Revolt of the Convicts. 151 

VIII Brother and Sister. 177 

IX Fatalitas.213 

X A Stroll in the Zoological Gardens . . 236 

XI A Little Family Gathering.264 

XII In the Abyss.276 

XIII The Kanaka’s Experiment . . M . . 294 



































WOLVES OF THE SEA 



WOLVES OF THE SEA 


CHAPTER I 
NUMBER 3216 

“My own ambition has always been to be an honest 
man,” said Little Buddha, casting a glance in the 
direction of the convict guards who, revolver in hand, 
were walking between the cages. 

“What for?” asked the Toper. 

“What for? Why, to set up as the owner of a 
wine shop, of course.” 

“We can’t all keep a wine shop,” said the Toper 
in a tone of philosophy, “life would be too easy. 
Every man who comes into the world has his work 
cut out for him. You, Little Buddha, were certainly 
intended to grind away in Cayenne. As Cheri-Bibi 
says, Fatalitas! What is written is written. We can’t 
cheat Providence. Talking of Cheri-Bibi, do you 
know what Carrots said to me? ” 

“ I’m not bothering about what Carrots said to 
you,” replied Little Buddha, lowering his voice, “but 
it’s time we began to talk seriously. Now then: Is 
it for to-day or is it for to-morrow?” 

9 


10 WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The other outlaws repeated in the same tone, 
gathering round Little Buddha: 

“He’s right. ... Is it for to-day? ... Is it for 
to-morrow?” 

“Shut up!” growled the Toper. “It’s for whenever 
Cheri-Bibi pleases. But hang it all, shut'up!” 

As a warder passed stealthily along the bars of the 
cage, bending his legs in order to counterbalance the 
rolling of the vessel which was particularly heavy 
that day, the Toper continued aloud: 

“No, but didn’t you hear what Carrots said? How 
silly the fellow is to talk like a preacher. He’s very 
squeamish. The only thing that he’s got up against 
Cheri-Bibi is robbing the body of the Marchioness. 
He says that cemeteries should be sacred.” 

“He makes us laugh,” chuckled Little Buddha, 
who was seated on his kit bag. “The rich have no 
occasion to take their trinkets to the grave with them.” 

“You see this hand,” said Carrots. “It has made 
as many victims as there are fingers on it. Well, it 
wouldn’t have done that. It would loathe that.” 

“Cheri-Bibi did what he wanted to do. If he wasn’t 
in irons you’d hold your jaw.” 

“That’s a certainty.” 

“Ask the Kanaka 1 if he played the fastidious in 
the dissecting-room.” 

Carrots shook his head obstinately. Cheri-Bibi did 


1 Kanaka, Canaque, Kanak, a native of New Caledonia and now 
applied to any native of the French colonies. Translator’s Note. 




NUMBER 3216 


11 


*vhat he wanted to do, used the knife, was a thief— 
and such a thief!—cheeked the judge and all the 
Court, cleared out ordinary people, but he did not 
approve of Cheri-Bibi robbing the dead. That 
brought bad luck. They mentioned the Kanaka, an 
ex-doctor who had been condemned to ten years’ hard 
labor because he would not say for what purpose he 
required the strips of flesh which he had cut out of 
one of his living patients whom he kept by main force 
in his house, bound to a leather couch. Well, the 
Kanaka drove his own trade. Dead meat or living 
flesh, doctors as well as murderers gambled in it; it 
didn’t frighten them. And turning to the Kanaka, 
Carrots added with a vicious laugh: 

“They do with it what they like, and it’s not for 
nothing that they call him the Kanaka.” 

At this terrible allusion to the notorious cannibal¬ 
ism of the aborigines of New Caledonia, the Kanaka, 
who was yellow, became green. The other, obsessed 
by the one idea, continued: 

“Take it from me, Cheri-Bibi was not born for that. 
There were better things for him to do than that. He 
showed a lack of delicacy.” 

“Cheri-Bibi is a giant and you are a set of pigmies,” 
rapped out the Kanaka in a voice of contempt, turning 
his back on them. 

“That’s true,” said Little Buddha. “He robbed the 
dead, but he did it to help the poor.” 

“I grant that,” said Carrots, firm in his opinions, 




12 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“but that throws discredit on the trade. That’s not the 
way to insure the progress of society. I’ve never read 
in Karl Marx or Kropotkine that you must do that 
sort of thing.” 

Carrots had not read anything at all. But he never 
lost an opportunity of quoting the names of great men 
which were bandied about at public meetings, as if 
these important persons shared his views regarding 
the constitution of society. 

“Cheri-Bibi has done everything in his time,” ex¬ 
plained Little Buddha. “He even began his career 
by being an innocent victim.” 

More often than not Little Buddha expressed him¬ 
self in studied language, as became a man who had 
been clerk to a sheriff’s officer. He was nicknamed 
Little Buddha because with his thick-set, short-legged 
body as round as a barrel, his neck well sunk between 
his shoulders, and his arms folded across his chest, he 
resembled those little Asiatic gods which are to be 
found in second-hand dealers’ shops. 

“Yes, he was innocent; at least that’s what he said,” 
he went on with a sigh, “and I quoted his case in my 
book on the ‘Reform of the Magistrature.’ Oh, the 
rotters ...” 

Little Buddha sighed as he thought of the sentence 
of penal servitude for life to which “they” had con¬ 
demned him for having in “an attack of nerves”— 
so this sluggish person declared—taken the law into 
his own hands in a struggle with an old woman who 




NUMBER 3216 


13 


had refused to hand over to him the key of her 
cash-box. 

“That’s the way of the world now,” groaned Car¬ 
rots. “It’s enough for you to have done nothing for 
them to send you to a convict settlement. I have 
‘done in’ five, I give you my word. Not one more 
and not one less. Well, it’s for the sixth whom I 
never saw that you have the pleasure of my company. 
I say what I think. I’ve never committed a useless 
crime. I’ve always had a conscience. I’m a miser¬ 
able wretch, ’tis true; a thief, ’tis true; I’ve used the 
knife, ’tis true; but that’s no reason why they 
should condemn an innocent man.” 

“That’s the only thing society has ever done for 
you,” said Little Buddha in a tone of philosophy. 

"“While Cheri-Bibi is always doing something for 
society,” broke in the Toper, who was nervously fol¬ 
lowing with a watchful eye the movements of the 
convict guard. “Did you see how he spat in the 
Commander’s face? There’s another man who gives 
me the hump with his doleful countenance. Do you 
know what he said to Cheri-Bibi?—‘Do you want 
anything, are you ill, Cheri-Bibi?’ And here was 
Cheri-Bibi spitting in his face! He did the right 
thing. We don’t want pity. What we want is jus¬ 
tice.” 

“Is it for to-day, or is it for to-morrow?” came 
from the hoarse voices of the men at the back of the 
cage. 





14 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The Toper growled louder than ever so as to drown 
their murmurs: 

“If the Captain sings small to Cheri-Bibi, it’s 
because he funks him, just as the juries were too funky 
to condemn him to death for fear of reprisals. Every¬ 
one funks Cheri-Bibi.” 

At these words the shadows at the back of the cage 
who were reclining on their kit bags and hammocks, 
which were rolled up in accordance with regulations, 
rose to their feet, and a humming sound, soft and 
rhythmic at first, but soon growing in volume, came 
from between decks. 

Who is it pads the hoof in gore, 

And sets the dynamite a-roar, 

And scares all Paris more and more? 

Sing ho for Clieri! 

The guv’ment will not leave us free, 

From the Bois d’Boulogne to Gay Paree; 

Who blows the blooming lot UP? 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi! 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi! 

The Toper with a few blows of his fist and a few 
rough words imposed silence, rapping out in a hollow 
voice: 

“Look out! . . . warder’s coming.” 

“ Chouia , silence!” ordered the African, who was 
notorious for the extraordinary cruelty with which he 
had treated his mistress. 

The overseers came hurrying up. They were 




NUMBER 3216 


15 


furious. Keys grated in the locks. In the diffused 
light which feebly poured in from the railed portholes, 
the men could see through the bars, warders, re¬ 
volver in hand, surrounding the men who were carry¬ 
ing the mess. 

“Eyes front!” 

The cage which contained the Toper, Little Buddha, 
Carrots and the Kanaka was the first in the upper 
gun deck next to the Bayard's forecastle. She was 
an old cruiser which had been converted into a trans¬ 
port and commissioned recently to convey convicts 
and persons deported from their country, from the 
Isle de Re to Cayenne, since the Loire alone was not 
equal to the work. 

The issue of rations began at this cage. As soon 
as the order “Eyes front” rang out the fifty convicts 
who crowded the cage leapt to their feet. There were 
tragic faces among them; pallid faces, faces tinged 
with green; hollow cheeks, feverish eyes. Their 
heads and faces were clean-shaven, and they were 
dressed alike in the same square cap, the same jacket 
and trousers of coarse brown cloth, the same heavy 
yellow shoes. Round their arms was a band on which 
a number was inscribed, for in the eyes of the author¬ 
ities these men no longer possessed a name. They 
lined up, elbowing each other so as to get in position, 
for they had caught sight of the second-in-command, 
a terrible martinet, who sent them to the cells, and 
put them in irons for next to nothing. The convict 




16 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


guards were subservient tools, cursing and swearing 
and striking hard at the men, ever ready with their 
“shooters,” as if the revolvers themselves were chok¬ 
ing with the shot that filled their mouths, and longed 
to be relieved of their powder and their “suppressed 
lightning.” The criminal fraternity were smartened 
up a little by the wards’ bullying methods. 

The guards enter the cages like animal tamers 
going among wild beasts. With revolver cocked, erect 
and on the alert, they encounter the eyes of each 
man in turn, and read in them rebellion, fury, im¬ 
potent rage, and they compel them to shrink from 
the gleaming barrels. “Eyes front!” 

The men who do not move to their places smartly 
enough with a click of the heels, their hands at their 
sides, are roughly hustled and soundly thrashed. 

Nothing escaped the little piercing eyes of Lieuten¬ 
ant de Vilene, the second-in-command of the Bayard. 
There was but one word on his lips: “Cells.” He 
would have broken Cheri-Bibi if he had been in the 
Captain’s place. And nothing more would have been 
heard of the monster. The Captain and he would no 
longer have had to look after a man who had escaped 
from penal servitude once, from the lock-up twice, 
from a departmental prison thrice, and for whom 
doors seemed to have been built only to open of them¬ 
selves, and bars erected only to support the rope or 
the bedclothes which set him free. They could very 
well have done without such a charge; and they both 




NUMBER 3216 


17 


lived in dread of letting this terror loose on society. 

However, Cheri-Bibi was in irons. At any rate 
that was something. And he would remain in irons 
during the voyage on board ship. De Vilene had 
made Captain Barrachon swear it. The latter had not 
yet got over Cheri-Bibi’s gross insult to him—him 
who was always so considerate with the convicts and 
professed humanitarian sentiments. 

“That will teach you a lesson,” de Vilene said to 
the Captain. 

The Lieutenant entered the cage in a fury, behind 
the warders, accompanied by the Overseer General, 
who himself had come hurrying up on hearing the 
unusual noise from the lower deck. 

“Suppose I stop your rations. You know well 
enough that you’re not allowed to sing,” said the 
Inspector. 

“If anyone wants to join No. 3216 in the hold let 
him say so,” exclaimed de Vilene. “Two days in 
the cells for you, Corporal, for not rolling up Cheri- 
Bibi’s hammock.” 

The Corporal was no other than the African and he 
was on the point of receiving three tubs, which were 
being delivered to his cage, containing rations for his 
hundred and fifty men, and slinging the “dishes” to 
the deck above by means of the chain. 

When he heard the sentence he said like a school¬ 
boy: 

“We’re going it!” 




18 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Four days.” 

He was silent. De Vilene shot a devastating look 
at him. He did not understand how a man with the 
African’s record could reply “We’re going it” to a 
naval lieutenant. He was beside himself. His wrath 
deprived everyone in the cage of the power of move¬ 
ment. The convicts around him held their breath. 
They knew that punishments incurred during the voy¬ 
age would have a terrible influence on the treatment 
which would be meted out to them when they arrived 
in Cayenne. 

“You’re so happy here, you sing,” snarled the 
officer. “Apparently because the absence of No. 3216 
gives you more room.” 

It was true that the departure of Cheri-Bibi had 
given them more room for they were packed in the 
cage like sardines in a tin. When Cheri-Bibi was 
ordered below in irons, two warders, who never left 
him, went with him; for, of course, they did him the 
honor of keeping a special watch over him. To 
begin with, the convict guard had been doubled in 
the passage outside his cage; afterwards two warders 
kept their eyes on him day and night in the cage 
itself. And at the end of the passage near the 
hatchways, and at all the entrances leading to the 
cages, soldiers were posted ready to fire at the first 
alarm. 

The Lieutenant made the tour of the cage, turning 
the kit bags upside down as though he scented a sur- 




NUMBER 3216 


19 


prise of some sort, some malevolent trick, devised in 
the dreadful gloom of this corner of the infernal 
regions. He 'opened one at haphazard. He knew 
quite well that after the perfect search to which the 
men had been subjected on leaving, he would find in 
it only the regulation outfit; but, even then one could 
never be easy in one’s mind, never be sure of any¬ 
thing with such miscreants. Finding nothing out of 
the way in the kit bag, he vented his spleen on the 
floor which he considered had not been properly 
swabbed. 

“Who swabbed the deck?” he shouted; and 
turning to his escort, “For the future the cleaning 
for the cages will be done by men told off for the 
purpose. The overseer in charge of the men on 
fatigue duty must be satisfied that the work has been 
properly done, and must report to the Overseer 
General, who will inform me or my assistant.” 

Then turning on his heel he confronted the men: 

“And you. . . . Listen to me. . . . The men on 
fatigue duty, doing their twenty-four hours service, 
will not be allowed to go on deck with the others for 
the daily half-hour’s exercise. They must wait till 
they’ve finished their work. You will receive some 
small scrapers for this work, in addition to the swabs, 
for you don’t wet them enough. Damme, I want your 
cages to be as clean as the Commander’s sitting-room. 
Do you follow me? Do you understand—you Chouia 
—you Corporal.” 




20 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“But the Commander said that . . murmured 
the African with a sigh. 

“There’s the Commander,” interrupted the 
Lieutenant as he thrust his revolver in the man’s face. 

The warders were in a state of immense elation. 
The Lieutenant was not the man to let the grass grow 
under his feet. But one of them, unluckily for him, 
laughed a little too loudly. The Lieutenant ordered 
him twenty-four hours in the cells, which would teach 
him to take the service seriously. It was the turn of 
the convicts to be delighted, and one of them cried out 
in the dusk: 

“Bravo!” 

On hearing this word of approval de Vilene, who 
was certainly very touchy, ordered one of the three 
dishes containing food for the cage to he taken away. 
It would make them tighten their belts. It would 
teach them to express an opinion when it wasn’t 
wanted. 

He left them in a silence that could be felt. 

After the convict guards went out and the bars were 
padlocked, the men snarled and gnashed their teeth. 
Once more a portion of the mess was taken away from 
them. And appalling in their rage, they surged 
round the Toper. 

“Is it for to-day? ... Is it for to-morrow?” 

“It’s for whenever Cheri-Bibi decides.” 

On account of the rolling of the vessel the 
“dishes”—the two tubs—were suspended on a chain. 




NUMBER 3216 


21 


The Corporal was in charge of the first two parties of 
men who took their places round the tubs, and began 
to forage in the nauseous mixture which was simmer¬ 
ing in them. The mess cooks kept a sharp look out 
on the movements of the wooden spoons plunging in 
this glue-like skilly consisting of odds and ends of 
carrots, turnips and leeks that at the finish were done 
to rags, or rather the residue of the stuff containing 
haricots so hard that nothing could soften them or 
make them lose their shape and identity. Each tub 
had, on this occasion, to satisfy the hunger of seventy- 
five instead of fifty men, because of the “privation.” 
Fortunately some of them suffered from the rolling of 
the ship, and being in a state of collapse in the 
corners, near the buckets, refused to answer the call. 
The convicts ate their food with mouths bent over 
the tubs like pigs bending over troughs. As they ate 
they continued their growls against the Lieutenant 
and the convict guards; the “warders” as they called 
them, although these men had the title and rank of 
“Military Overseers.” 

The overseers passed and repassed the cages rap¬ 
ping out frightful oaths and jeers and threats At 
one moment a loud clamor of slamming bars and a 
cry of pain could be heard from a distant cage on the 
gun deck. The convicts who were eating did not 
even look up. They knew the meaning of it. It was 
another old offender who had served his sentence in 
the cells, and on being brought back to his den had 




22 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


failed to enter it quickly enough. So they slammed 
the grille on his fingers. 

The convict guards’ chief sport was this crushing of 
fingers. Oh, the warders were swine? Wait till 
they had one of them in their power. “When would 
it be—to-day or to-morrow?” It was for whenever 
Cheri-Bibi decided. Nevertheless let him hurry 
up! 

Group succeeded group round the “tubs.” The 
men who were no longer eating watched the others 
eat. Each man was left his share. They showed a 
sense of fairness. And they stroked their stomachs 
with an air of satisfaction. 

The rolling of the ship increased. Men slipped and 
lurched and cried out as others trod upon their feet. 
One blundering fool hung onto the “tub” and it 
began to bob up and down like a ship in distress. It 
was stopped too abruptly and there was a general 
shout. The haricots had made off! It was an 
unexpected bonus for the men who had finished 
their meal. They rushed forward and threw them¬ 
selves upon the loathsome mess scattered over the 
deck. 

The sea was terribly rough. The kit bags rolled 
one over the other; and one caught the clatter of 
things falling from their places between decks. A 
warder was sent sprawling on his face between the 
cages, and his revolver went off. The convicts 





NUMBER 3216 


23 




laughed as only convicts can laugh. The shot did 
not kill or wound anyone. 

“I wish it had killed you,” exclaimed the warder in 
a rasping voice as he scrambled to his feet. 

In one cage a convict complained that salt water 
had been given him to drink. 4nd the seas still 
mounted higher. . . . The waves sweeping against 
the ship’s waist and hurling themselves over the 
prow produced a thunder like the firing of heavy 
artillery. 

At that moment the men who were eating at the 
“chain” with the Toper were listening to him with 
both ears. Carrots, the Kanaka, Little Buddha, and 
the African himself neglected their soup. But they 
pretended to be utterly intent on eating in the same 
gluttonous fashion. 

“Don’t worry,” whispered the Toper. “As our 
curate said: ‘There’s a good time coming.’ It was 
not for nothing that Cheri-Bibi got himself put in 
irons. And the reason why he spat in the 
‘Guv’nor’s’ face was that he didn’t want to be 
interfered with. He’s got his scheme. It’s a 
good ’un.” 

“We’ll leave that to Cheri-Bibi. Seems we might 
in irons?” whispered Little Buddha. “I myself can 
do nothing without him. I’ve no confidence in 
anyone but him.” 

“That’s his affair. He knows his business. 
There was no way of making our arrangements so 




24 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


long as the warders were in the cage watching him. 
That’s why he got himself put in irons. Do you 
understand now? He can talk.” 

“I shall be in the cells to-morrow,” said the 
African. “Hurry up, so that I know what’s what. 
Is it a fact that we’re all agreed on a shindy?” 

“Certain,” declared the Toper, nodding his head. 

“All agreed to seize the ship.” 

“Certain.” 

“Is the lower gun deck in it?” 

“The lower gun deck as well as the upper gun 
deck.” 

“Aren’t there any police spies?” 

“No, and no prison spies. All of us are in it 
quite openly. Ready to risk our skins if necessary. 
Win or die, what!” 

“But what are we going to do when we’ve got the 
upper hand?” 

“We’ll leave that to Cheri-Bibi. Seems we might 
turn pirates. We can please ourselves seeing that 
we shall be our own masters, what? Everything in 
the store-room will be ours, the whole caboodle, the 
ship and the government’s money.” 

“We shall be masters of the Atlantic. Let those 
who come up against us look out!” said Little Buddha, 
and playing the gentleman he went on: “What awful 
weather! What a hustle! You’re treading on my 
foot, Toper. Did you ever see such a crowd packed 
into so small a space? We might be on the Boule- 




NUMBER 3216 


25 


vards on the fourteenth of July.” And he hummed 
as he cleaned out the bottom of the tub: 

In Paris chock-a-block with troops. 

“Sing! Sing!” ordered the Toper. “There’s the 
warder. Don’t let him suspect that we’re planning 
things. . . .” 

Little Buddha wiped his mouth with his sleeve and 
finished: 


In Paris chock-a-block with troops , 

Where 1 go for my little treat , 

There’ll be twenty million nincompoops 
A-treading on my feet. 

The guard had passed. The Toper went on: 

“Maybe we can go to Caracas where there’s a 
revolution on. We could offer our services to the 
revolutionary army, and then it would be our turn to 
become the government.” 

“That’s a good idea,” said Little Buddha approv¬ 
ingly. “You shall be Minister of Justice and 1 
Minister of Education. You’d see how I would 
educate the people. There would be no use for 
murderers.” 

“Now you’ve talked enough rot,” said the Kanaka, 
who never allowed himself to take a cheerful view of 
anything, “can you explain, Monsieur the Toper, how 
we who are unarmed, locked up in cages, surrounded 




26 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


by warders and soldiers ready to search us, can get 
hold of the Bayard?” 

“You want to know too much,” returned Carrots. 

“That’s a fact, he’s too inquisitive,” insisted the 
Toper. “Cheri-Bibi doesn’t like it. I’ve told you 
he’s got his scheme.” 

“Well, I tell you that without arms we can do 
nothing.” 

“I agree with the Kanaka,” said the African. 

“Who told you we shouldn’t have any arms?” 

“Where are we to get ’em from?” 

“Aren’t there any on board?” 

“Yes, but we can’t get at ’em.” 

“The scheme is a very simple one,” the Toper 
let slip at last, in a tone of irritation. And leaning 
towards his companions at the tub he continued: 
“We shall have arms ... as many as we want to 
make us masters of the lower deck. Do you follow 
me? We shall have arms . . . cutlasses, shooters 
. . . Excellent! At a given moment, when the 
cage is opened we shall make a rush at the guard, 
the Overseer General, the Inspector, the Lieutenant, 
in fact all the lot of them, and do for them. We shall 
open the other cages before the guards on the upper 
deck know what’s going on.” 

“But the sentries will fire and the soldiers and 
sailors come hurrying up. We shall all be mas¬ 
sacred.” 

“Silly fool!” returned the Toper in a tone of con- 




NUMBER 3216 


27 


tempt. “It’s certain that many of us will have to 
pay for it. More than one of us will get shot. But 
you can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs, can 
you? The chief thing is not to funk it but to do the 
needful. Eight hundred pals on board will be 
armed. . . . We’ll make a dash for the hatchways, 
and it’s the sentries that’ll pay for it. And then we 
can barricade the hatchways in the gangways with kit 
bags and any stuff we may find in the hold. ... I 
tell you, there’ll be a devil of a racket. We’ll fight 
like they did in the days of the Revolution, what? 
It’s a bad look out for the funkers. For my part I’d 
rather go under in the attempt than snuff it at Bre 
slaving away for the Government.” 

A murmur of approval greeted the orator’s last 
words. Nevertheless the Kanaka did not seem 
entirely convinced. He was a man with the scientific 
mind. He mistrusted the Toper’s enthusiasm, his 
impulsive, thoughtless temperament. Yet he realized 
that Cheri-Bibi had chosen him as the confidant of 
his plans because, owing to his herculean strength, 
his brutality and his exploits, the Toper exercised a 
real influence over the convicts; and Cheri-Bibi was 
confident that he would not betray him but would 
make short work of those false friends who when they 
had knowledge of his intentions did not regard them 
as wonderful. 

“The proof that we shall have arms when he 
likes,” went on the Toper, getting up, a movement 




28 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


which was followed by the gaze of all the convicts who 
had been furtively watching Cheri-Bibi’s lieutenant 
as he talked, “the proof is that he wants us all to-day, 
in a body, to drink his health. We’ve had enough 
water. Come on, Carrots, have a look at the bottom 
of your bag.” 

Carrots did as he was told and almost died on the 
spot from shock as his fingers came in contact with 
the agreeable chill of a glass bottle, and pulled it out 
with a trembling hand. All the men stared at it with 
the exception of the Lamb. There is always at least 
one Lamb in each cage who does not want to know 
anything of what is happening round him, and whose 
hypocritical attitude is allowed to pass because more 
often than not he is in a state of despair that prevents 
him from eating, and willingly foregoes his rations. 
With the exception, therefore, of the Lamb and the 
Toper, who started off on a tour of the grille just to 
keep the “deputy warders” under observation, every 
man had his eyes fixed on him, even the sick who 
pulled themselves together in order to see and under¬ 
stand. ... Was it then indeed true? ... A 
bottle. ... A really big fat-bellied bottle. ... A 
beautiful tickler. ... A liter such as they had not 
seen for many a long day, for they were not entitled 
to buy luxuries at the canteen like the old offenders 
who were allowed to have money and the happiness 
that money can buy They all stood up in spite of 
the pitching and rolling and their illness. . . . 




NUMBER 3216 


29 


Clutching one another, with a tremulous movement 
of the fingers, their eyes starting from their heads, 
they stared at the bottle. 

Carrots, who trembled so greatly that he was 
afraid of dropping it, held it tightly clasped in his 
arms; and then he opened it with eyes closed, nostrils 
dilated and face transfixed. The bottle contained 
rum. They would be able to have a tot of rum. The 
mere thought of it excited their thirst. Men who no 
longer had the right to anything save blows and 
kicks like wild beasts, and to starve to death, suddenly 
saw the light! A bottle of rum! What a miracle 
and what a mystery. It was Cheri-Bibi’s doing. 
He alone was capable of such a stroke. He 
alone could explain the inexplicable—how this 
wonderful thing had come about in spite of perpetual 
searches and frightful and continuous supervision. 
The man who had smuggled in this bottle of rum 
would also smuggle in arms. That could be 
depended on. There was no longer room for any 
doubt. And the men in all their varied brutality 
passionately vowed themselves to him. 

“What a piece of luck the Lieutenant didn’t fix on 
Carrots’ kit bag,” said Little Buddha. 

“It proves that Providence is with us,” declared 
the Toper. “Come on, there’s a drink all round. 
There isn’t enough in this one for all of us.” 

He took four large bottles of rum out of the bag 
at the moment when he felt that there would be a 








30 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


scrimmage round Carrots’ bottle, which would not go 
far among so many. Then there was a gloomy and 
mute delirium. They drank, they gurgled and 
choked with joy, their heads thrown hack a little, 
transported by the flow of the burning spirit. Those 
who had not yet drunk waited, their hands out¬ 
stretched, their fingers bent, growling impatiently, 
gasping painfully and heavily for breath. The 
Toper kept order, and when the warders walked 
down the alley-way he put the bottles out of sight. 
And then once again the men made a rush at them. 
When the unclean kiss on the mouth of the bottle 
continued too long, men cried out in muffled and 
threatening voices: “That’ll do!” and the drinker 
gave up the bottle with flaming eyes. When the 
bottles were empty there was at first a silence, a sort 
of physical exhaustion to which they yielded with one 
common accord. And then suddenly the same 
impulse of gratitude leapt forth from all their 
throats. And the hoarse voices rang out: 

The guv 9 ment will not leave us free , 

From the Bois cTBoulogne to Gay Paree; 

Who blows the blooming lot U P? 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi! 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi! 

The guard in hot haste leveled their revolvers 
through the bars, and the Captain and the Lieutenant 
rushed up with a number of soldiers before the men 




NUMBER 3216 


31 


could be made to stop their singing. The whole 
cage, when silence was restored, was condemned to 
three days bread and water diet. A warder dis¬ 
covered the empty bottles. Lieutenant de Vilene 
went pale with rage: 

“Who made you a present of these?” 

There was a silence. 

“Who made you this present?” 

Then the convicts in unison shouted: 

“Cheri-Bibi . . . Cheri-Bibi.” 

The Captain, noticing that they were in a state of 
mad excitement due to the rum to which they were 
unaccustomed, and wishing as far as possible to 
avoid further trouble, ordered his men to retire. 

“You must make an inquiry,” he said to the 
Lieutenant when they were in the alley-way, “and 
if the guards are at fault, punish them severely. 
Bottles of rum in the cage! Why, there might have 
been arms. Oh, we’ve got to find out all about 
it. . . . It’s inconceivable.” 

“Absolutely. But what is more inconceivable 
still. Captain,” replied the Lieutenant, “is why the 
juries did not condemn all these miscreants to death. 
If they saw them as we see them, it is quite likely 
that they would regret their weakness . . . not to 
say their cowardice. When I think that they did not 
dare to strike at Cheri-Bibbi. . . .” 

“Yes, it’s monstrous.” 

The circumstances of Cheri-Bibi’s last trial were 




32 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


indeed monstrous. To begin with, two of the jury¬ 
men whose names were in the ballot, and who in 
spite of their efforts were not challenged, had simply 
fainted, and they had to be brought to by massage 
before they returned to a sense of their duty to 
society. They requested the President of the Assize 
Court to afford them police protection to their homes 
after the trial, and to instruct the detective service 
to continue to guard their precious lives; and finally 
they returned a verdict of guilty with “extenuating 
circumstances,” finding that Cheri-Bibi was only in 
part responsible and thus saving his head. The case 
was, moreover, conducted with a remarkable lack of 
firmness by the President, who was so polite that he 
seemed to be asking the prisoner’s pardon for taking 
so great a liberty as to try him. The state of mind 
of the Seine Assize Court at this period may be 
gathered if we recall that on the very morning of 
the trial, the wine shop in which the waiter served 
who betrayed Cheri-Bibi and handed him over to 
the police, was blown up like a box of fireworks. 
It was a warning that the jurymen had taken to 
heart. 

“Let’s go and see him,” said the Captain, who 
descended the ladder leading to the lower gun deck. 
“This Cheri-Bibi prevents me from sleeping,” he 
confessed. 

They went along the lower gun deck, between the 
cages. On the upper deck, thanks to the portholes. 




NUMBER 3216 


33 


it was possible to see almost distinctly, but the 
second deck was like night with a few dim red 
gleams from lanterns that swung with the rolling of 
the waves. Only the iron bars shone, and behind 
them, looming in the darkness, the faces of demons 
appeared, like the hideous faces seen in nightmares, 
and they stared at the warders as they passed, 
revolver in hand. The two officers merely walked 
through the alley-way and went below to the third 
deck. As soon as they descended to this inferno 
the obscurity became impenetrable. In places they 
had to grope their way step by step, leaning against 
the iron walls behind which they caught the sound of 
wails or curses. They reached the alley-way in which 
lay the cells under a military guard. At the far end, 
at the very back of this hell, a warder opened the 
door for them. And they went in accompanied by 
a sailor carrying a lantern. Two deputy convict 
warders—guards whom the convicts placed even 
below the warders—rose to their feet at the entrance 
to the cell and gave the salute. 

Some object was crouching in the gloom of the 
background. 

For a few moments the two officers took stock of 
this object which did not stir. Was it dead? Was 
it alive? The Captain, heavy of heart, much con¬ 
cerned, determined to make sure. 

“Aren’t you ashamed, Cheri-Bibi, to have spat in 
the face of your Captain?” he said. 




34 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The still motionless object possessed a voice, and 
a hoarse voice replied: 

“You were wrong to take it as a personal insult.” 

When Captain Barrachon, worthy man, who asked 
only to live in peace, and to whom by a frightful 
stroke of fate the duty had fallen to take this cargo 
of malefactors to its destination, heard Cheri-Bibi’s 
reply he turned giddy: “You were wrong to take 
it as a personal insult!” He had to hold on to the 
bulkhead so greatly was he moved. It was really too 
much. Cheri-Bibi was obviously making fun of him. 
The little spirit which the practice of his social and 
humanitarian theories with his subordinates had left 
the Captain received a rude shock. He realized that 
de Vilene was undoubtedly right in treating these 
miscreants as wild beasts who had nothing in 
common with ordinary human nature. And what the 
past crimes, the blood-stained notoriety of Cheri-Bibi 
failed to achieve, namely, make him forget that a 
man, however low he may have sunk, still belongs to 
the human family, the convict’s mockery had 
accomplished in a flash. He bitterly loathed all those 
wretches, and he could not forgive them for making 
him believe for an instant that he could win them by 
fair treatment and make better men of them. Why, 
he had never lost an opportunity since the vessel 
started of showing Cheri-Bibi that his heart was not 
steeled against the evils of the prison system, by 
granting some relaxation of the terrible regulations, 





NUMBER 3216 


35 


by improving the convicts’ daily fare, and by 
interesting himself in their general welfare. He 
allowed them now and again an additional short 
exercise on the upper deck with the sole object of 
preventing them from stifling to death in their cages. 
And this was his reward! Cheri-Bibi spat in his 
face and told him not to regard it as a personal 
insult. . . . Yes, yes, de Vilene was right ... it 
would teach him a lesson ... it would teach him a 
lesson. For the future he would be pitiless and he 
began: 

“Cheri-Bibi, you are a reckless fellow.” 

The object squatting in the dark corner chuckled. 

“Consider that I spat in the face of society. It 
was not intended to annoy you personally. Captain.” 

He heard the hoarse, husky, forbidding voice, the 
manner of saying “Captain.” How could one pity 
such wretches? If only he did not get loose. He 
would be capable of anything, anything. He had 
already proved that he was capable of anything, but 
after Captain Barrachon had spoken he meant that he 
was able to do anything against him; in other words, 
entail upon him all the anxieties that would follow 
his escape, to say nothing of the crimes that he would 
commit aboard ship. The man who devised a scheme 
for blowing up the Law Courts would certainly see 
nothing out of the way in shooting Captain 
Barrachon. 

Prudence was the watchword. Cheri-Bibi should 




36 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


remain in irons until the end of the voyage. He told 
him so. 

“That’s all right,” replied the voice. “I prefer 
you like that. You disgust me less.” 

“Bring your lantern nearer,” the Captain shouted 
to the sailor. 

He examined with minute care the irons, called 
bars of justice. They consisted of a long rod of over 
an inch in diameter with fetters attached which kept 
the legs crossed, and, if needs be, the arms as well. 
In Cheri-Bibi’s case the arms were crossed. When 
the shackles were once fitted to the limbs, they were 
threaded to the rod, and let down to the spot which 
they were intended to occupy. Afterwards the end 
of the rod was closed by means of a large padlock 
which served as a bolt. An iron pad covered the 
other end of the rod, to prevent the fetters from 
slipping off. 

Captain Barrachon made sure that the bars and 
shackles were in position and Cheri-Bibi’s limbs also. 
The lantern did not cast any light upon the lower 
part of the object crouching in the dusk; the object 
whose wheezing and hateful breathing could be heard 
though its face could not be seen. The Captain took 
the lantern from the sailor, and felt no inclination to 
throw its rays upon Cheri-Bibi’s face, which always 
perturbed him. He could look at the hands and feet 
in their irons; but he would not look at the face, 
the hideous face. ... He could not bear to see it. 




NUMBER 3216 


37 


. . . He shuddered at the thought of the terrible 
expression which it must wear since he had ordered 
him to be kept “in irons for the rest of the voyage,” 
for, after all, it was as though he had sentenced him 
to death. 

The lantern was clear of the rod and was held over 
the padlock, which was properly fastened. It was a 
sound, heavy, thick, honest padlock of which the 
Captain held the key, the only key, in his pocket. 
And he stood up with a sigh of relief. He was 
more easy in his mind now that he had examined 
the irons. 

“I’ve always regretted,” he said to the Lieutenant, 
“that these irons which recall the Inquisition and 
the gloomy Middle Ages, are used in our navy to 
punish the slightest breach of the regulations or of 
discipline. But really I’m not sorry that we still 
have these last vestiges of barbarism at our command 
when we have to deal with a convict like this.” 

“Shut up!” said the voice in the dark. 

“Do you hear him? ’Tis crime itself that is 
speaking,” said Barrachon, incensed. “Crime in 
all its impudence and horror. Crime with no name 
to it.” 

“Yes, for it’s called Cheri-Bibi,” shrieked the 
voice proudly. 

“This wretch respects nothing. Perhaps he has 
parents who are mourning over his misdeeds, but he 




38 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


is as oblivious of them as he is oblivious of the crimes 
themselves.” 

“I’ve weakened my memory by excess,” replied 
the voice. 

“Let’s hurry away,” exclaimed the Captain, “or 
I shall kill him and regret it all my life.” 

“And I ... I should congratulate you all mine,” 
replied the Lieutenant. 

The Captain turned to the two men whose duty 
it was never to lose sight of Cheri-Bibi. 

“I’ve ordered the guard to be relieved every hour. 
It will be less of a strain. You know your instruc¬ 
tions. . . . You must never speak or answer No. 
3216.” 

At that moment a dismal sob came from the dark¬ 
ness. It was so terrible and so mournful that both 
officers were singularly impressed. The Captain was 
at the end of his endurance. He lifted the lantern to 
a level with the face of the man who was crying. 
And all five—the two officers, the two warders, and the 
sailor—started back appalled, for they had before 
them a man who was laughing. The men would 
never forget the abominable spectacle, this bitter 
laughter in the red gleam of the lantern, this 
monstrous grimace of the man who mocked them by 
laughing from ear to ear because they believed for 
a moment that he had moaned and felt compassion 
for his suffering. The Captain let the lantern fall, 
and it shattered, and the light went out, and the 




NUMBER 3216 


39 


loathsome object faded in the darkness. Barrachon, 
stifling, staggering, opened the door of the cell and 
took refuge in the alley-way. 

“He laughs!” he muttered, overcome with a fit 
of shivering. “The monster must have laughed 
when he committed his last murder.” 

The door was not yet closed, and Cheri-Bibi heard 
the Captain’s word. And the hoarse voice over¬ 
took Barrachon as he fled: 

“You’re wrong in thinking it made no difference 
to me. That very night I had to take a mustard foot 
bath!” 

Barrachon and de Vilene pressed their whole 
weight against the door to shut out the sound. 

Then they mounted the steps of the inferno which 
above and below and around them seemed once more 
to be filled with a general shout. The convicts 
would not keep silent unless they saw a non-com¬ 
missioned officer or an officer. From cage to cage, 
from cell to cell, from lower deck to upper deck ribald 
songs, insults, curses, challenges, obscenities were 
being bandied about; but the Captain and the 
Lieutenant could think only of Cheri-Bibi. 

“Luckily for all of us he’ll be dead before the 
voyage is over,” said de Vilene. 

“Why should he be?” asked Barrachon, stopping 
short with one foot on the last rung of the ladder 
which ran up to the second deck. “Why do you 
want him to die?” 




40 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“He won’t be able to hold out to the end with 
those irons on. His hands and feet are already 
bleeding.” 

“The devil they are!” said the Captain, thinking 
out aloud. “That’s a ‘question of conscience.’ ” 

“Is there any question of conscience concerned 
with men like that? We must have more pluck than 
jurymen, that’s all. . . . Hark!” 

The vessel re-echoed with the convicts’ doleful 
singing. 

“There’s no hope with that scum,” went on the 
Lieutenant. “Oh, if we made up our minds to it! 
A little blood-letting would soon bring them to their 
senses.” 

Before the Captain had time to reply a big white 
body came tumbling against him, grabbed him as it 
passed, made him slightly lose his balance, continued 
its course swiftly down the ladder, heels uppermost, 
and would have rolled to the bottom of the hold if 
the Lieutenant had not quietly caught it midway. 
The officers recognized the cook’s mate, who had 
obviously not found his sea legs. From the begin¬ 
ning of the voyage the lurching and wallowing of 
the ship held him at their mercy. The unfortunate 
man could not stand upright. Because of this fact 
and his thinness he was the sport of the warders and 
the sailors, who nicknamed him the Dodger. 

“What are you doing here?” asked the Captain. 




NUMBER 3216 


41 


“You see for yourself, sir” the Dodger replied 
in a serious voice. “I’m collecting my dishes.” 

As a matter of fact, men were following him with 
the convicts’ mess tubs. He caught hold of the rope 
of the ladder and added: 

“Do you know, sir, that the cook has been work¬ 
ing it out in the store-room with the Inspector? Not 
a single bottle of rum is missing.” 

At that moment a more than usually sudden lurch 
of the vessel made him let go the rope and he went 
flying down to the deck below. 

“I never heard of such a thing,” groaned the 
Captain. 

“I swear that I’ll clear the matter up before the 
day is over,” said de Vilene. “The rum must have 
been sold to them by the overseers.” 

When the announcement was made by the guard 
that the two officers had returned to the lower deck, 
the singing ceased, to be taken up again as soon 
as the Captain and Lieutenant had passed. And 
it was the turn of the upper deck to smother its 
clamor. 

“Here’s the Cap’n and the Second!” 

The signal passed from cage to cage. The two 
officers halted for a moment before the “financier’s 
cage.” Not that a special compartment was set aside 
for financial gentlemen, but the cage owed its name 
to the great number of fraudulent bankrupts and 
swindlers who had misappropriated funds who were 




42 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


present, cheek by jowl with the usual number of 
common rogues. For that matter they were all dressed 
alike. Thus it was impossible to distinguish the 
small fry, the society sharper, the solicitor who was 
once held in honor in his county, the fraudulent 
banker who had surprised the town by his display, 
nor those popular cracksmen with a sense of humor 
who when they came before judges and juries excited 
the admiration of certain ill-balanced young persons. 
Spiritless, dejected, cast down amidst this confused 
jumble of the tagrag and bobtail of crime, they 
were no longer recognizable with the exception of the 
Top, who every now and then, when least expected, 
gave vent to a sharp, shrill chuckle which vibrated 
like a pea-whistle, and had the effect of driving the 
overseers almost crazy. 

The officers afterwards passed on to another com¬ 
partment, the cage for women, containing some forty 
old incorrigibles who, as soon as they caught sight 
of the Captain, began to bewail their fate and to groan 
in the most heartrending manner. 

“Have you done sniveling?” snarled one of them, 
whose white face and flaming black eyes were glued 
to the grille. 

Oh, she was not the one to whimper was not the 
Countess. Always in a passion, always in rebellion, 
she never ceased to stride round her cage like a wild 
hyena, scattering with a blow from her paw anyone 
who might stand in the way of her perambulation. 




NUMBER 3216 


43 


The other women dreaded her, for she was cruel, 
and of great strength, and used her teeth. She was 
extraordinarily beautiful. And they called her the 
Countess because she had assumed towards them 
from the beginning the airs of a great lady. 

And then one day she started to talk slang as if 
she had been used to it all her life, and she dominated 
them by her brazen effrontery. The Countess was the 
Kanaka’s wife and was condemned at the same time 
as that peculiar doctor for deeds which the indictment 
itself dared not describe. They were suspected of 
cannibalism. 

Barrachon and de Vilene stood before this beast of 
prey clinging to the bars of its cage. 

“What do you want, Captain? Do you want me 
to make love to you?” 

The Captain uttered a cry of pain, for the Countess 
suddenly stretched out her claw and seized him by 
the chin. 

“I’ve got him by the beard . . . I’ve got him by 
the beard!” 

The Lieutenant had to strike her a violent blow with 
the butt end of his revolver before she released 
her hold. She flung herself back, whining like a 
beast in a menagerie mastered by the prong of its 
keeper. 

The Lieutenant ordered her to be taken to the cells 
at once. 

“Oh, let’s get out of this,” gasped the Captain. 




44 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Let’s get up to the light of day. We must; leave 
these cursed places.” 

De Vilene shrugged his shoulders and followed him. 
The Captain’s weakness and his bombastic manner 
of expressing himself irritated him. Barrachon could 
endure it no longer nor could he master his disgust. 
He glided between the last cages as though he were 
running away, and heaved a sigh of relief when he 
placed his foot on the deck, notwithstanding that, 
down below, the inferno re-echoed once more with 
its terrible songs. 

“But why are they singing? We’ve never heard 
them sing like this before,” he said to the Lieutenant. 
“Something is happening that we know nothing 
about.” 

“Convicts are fond of singing,” answered the 
Lieutenant, smiling coldly. “Do you know the 
derivation of the word chioume, convict? It comes 
from the Italian ciurma, which itself is derived from 
the Greek keleusma , and it means the Song of the 
Rowers. What is there more agreeable in the world 
than the Song of the Rowers?” 

The Captain made off. He locked himself in his 
cabin. He was assailed by the gloomiest forebodings. 
He was especially perturbed by the mystery of the 
bottles of rum. Fortunately he had a considerable 
armed force under his command. Had he made 
sufficient use of that force? Had not his own weak¬ 
ness produced, by degrees, the state of mutiny into 




NUMBER 3216 


45 


which his extraordinary cargo had fallen? If he had 
dared to let his men use their weapons once or twice, 
as was his right, there would have been no more 
singing in the cages. And then he asked himself: 
“After all, why should I prevent them from singing? 
Why?” And he realized that it was not the singing 
that worried him, but someone that was at the bottom 
of it all, someone in the vessel, and that someone was 
no other than Cheri-Bibi. He had confessed to his 
lieutenant that the man prevented him from sleeping. 
As he reached this point in his reflections, there was 
a loud knock at his door and Lieutenant de Vilen e 
came in as pale as death. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked in a voice that 
failed him somewhat, for he was already convinced 
that he was about to hear of some terrible misfortune. 

“The matter is that No. 3216 has escaped,” replied 
the Lieutenant quickly. 

“Cheri-Bibi?” 

“Yes. Cheri-Bibi is not in his cell.” 

The Captain partly turned round and dropped 
onto the sofa. 

“But look here,” he exclaimed with a start, “you 
don’t mean to say so. What about the warders?” 

“Both of them are dead. The relief guard found 
them behind the door of the cell strangled. The irons 
are still padlocked, and Cheri-Bibi has disappeared.” 




CHAPTER II 


IN THE HOLD 

On hearing the Lieutenant’s last words the Captain 
made sure that the key of the padlock was in his 
pocket and ran towards the cabin door like a madman. 
De Vilene stopped him. 

“Wait a bit, Captain,” he said. “Don’t go out 
in that state. We’ve the greatest reason to conceal 
this matter as far as possible. Cheri-Bibi can’t be 
far away; he can’t escape us; we will catch him again, 
but let’s try to lay hands on him without rousing any¬ 
one’s suspicions. As you said just now, things are 
happening that we know nothing about. I’ve not said 
anything to the Inspector yet, but he has just made 
an alarming report on the state of mind of the con¬ 
victs in the lower decks. Something is in the wind, 
and the disappearance of Cheri-Bibi is perhaps only 
the beginning or the signal of the affair. At my 
request the Sergeant and the two warders, who alone 
know the truth, have sworn that they will not breathe 
a word to a soul. Let’s make our investigation alone 
without seeming to do so. Afterwards we will come 
to some decision. To act otherwise will be to en¬ 
courage the convicts and perhaps to frighten our men 

46 


IN THE HOLD 


47 


out of their wits, for they have a terror of Cheri-Bibi.” 

“You’re quite right,” acquiesced Barrachon. 
“We must be calm. . . . But it’s awful.” 

“Let’s quietly go down to the cell,” said the 
Lieutenant, “and we’ll see for ourselves. I have my 
little dark lantern in my pocket. Cheri-Bibi must be 
in the hold. We’ll see from which side he escaped.” 

“What about the dead warders?” 

“They’re still in the cell. My opinion is that they 
should not be moved to the sick-bay until to-night.” 

“Oh, it’s terrible,” groaned Barrachon, beside 
himself. “How can such things be! . . . Let’s 

They left the cabin, affecting as far as possible an 
air of unconcern. 

“I’ve doubled the sentries on the pretence that the 
convicts are in an ugly frame of mind, and on the off 
chance I’ve placed overseers near each boat,” said 
the Lieutenant. 

“You’re perfectly right; but he won’t risk coming 
on deck in broad daylight.” 

“You can never tell with a man like that. He is 
armed now, for he took the revolvers and cartridges 
from the murdered warders. We must be prepared 
for everything.” 

They once more made their way down to the lower 
decks. It was an extraordinary thing, and seemed 
to them of ill-omen, but an incredible silence prevailed 
in the cages. Not a voice, not a word could be heard. 




48 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Not a hand or a foot stirred, though the wind had 
suddenly died down and the vessel was sailing on 
an even keel. The convicts, motionless behind their 
bars, stared at the officers as they passed. Neverthe¬ 
less a curious chuckle came from the “financiers’ 
cage” as they crossed the lower gun deck. De Vilene 
turned round. The laugh ceased. A warder behind 
them shouted through the bars of the cage to the Top: 

“Have you done setting everybody at defiance?” 
And he added: “I don’t know what’s the matter 
with them to-day. A moment ago they were making 
a devil’s row, and now we hear nothing but this idiot’s 
laugh.” 

The officers descended to a lower deck. 

In order that the reader may understand the events 
which were about to take place within the particular 
compass of a troop-ship commissioned to take convicts 
to the penal settlement at Cayenne, it may be useful 
to picture in its general features the plan of the 
Bayard. Five parallel lines ran the full length 
of the vessel. These were the five decks, which were 
in each case nearly six feet apart. On the first deck 
stood the central superstructure, deck houses, bridges, 
masts, funnels and the other external works part and 
parcel of the life and navigation of the vessel. On 
the second deck were the officers’ cabins and berths, 
the staff quarters and the ward-room, and the 
passengers’ and government officials’ cabins. On 
the third deck, in addition to the crew’s and warders’ 




IN THE HOLD 


49 


quarters, one saw numbers of men packed and huddled 
together in cages, each man allowed a space of under 
two feet square in which to move; heavy iron railings 
against which pallid men were seated, fiercely picking 
up crumbs of bread which were barely enough to 
assuage a hunger still left unsatisfied by dry or rancid 
vegetables and uneatable meat. On the fourth deck 
was the same picture, but the men’s faces were leaden- 
colored because for the most part they were no longer 
hungry. They were down with a fever which 
follows the continuous breathing of a vitiated atmos* 
phere, for the air was freshened only through the 
ventilator which ran up to the prow. Thus they 
suffered not only from insufficient food but from abso¬ 
lute lack of air and light. On the fifth deck were the 
cells and the dark holds, filled with casks and pro¬ 
visions which was the domain of the ship’s stewards 
and the commissariat. Below the fifth deck were the 
store-rooms. 

“If he’s managed to slip into the holds or the 
store-rooms, we shan’t find him again very soon,” 
said the Captain. 

“We’ll ferret him out. Why, he can’t be far 
away,” replied de Vilene. “The main thing is to 
know which way he went. He won’t be able to 
move ten yards without running up against a warder. 
We must be prepared for anything that might 
happen.” 

They cocked their revolvers. The Lieutenant 




50 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


switched on his dark lantern and they opened the 
door of the cell, closing it at once behind them. 

The two dead bodies lay on the deck with their 
tongues hanging out, and their eyes starting from 
their sockets, and each one had a bootlace round 
his throat. After examining them for a moment, 
Barrachon rose from his stooping posture and 
shuddered. 

“Oh, the scoundrel, if he falls into my hands I will 
shoot him as I would a mad dog.” 

De Vilene examined the irons. Barrachon bent 
over beside him. The whole thing was a great 
mystery, entirely incomprehensible. The rod was 
still locked, the bloodstained shackles, the bar, the 
padlock were in their places just as they were when 
the Captain verified them a little more than an hour 
previously. And he had not let the key out of his 
possession for a second. But their bewilderment was 
nothing to the feeling of stupefaction which followed. 
There was no clue in the cell that could explain the 
flight. From which side had the prisoner got out? 
It would need a very clever person to offer a reason¬ 
able surmise. The walls were nowhere broken through. 
The decks above and below were intact. The heavy 
fastenings inside and outside the door had not been 
tampered with. And Cheri-Bibi could not have 
escaped by a door outside which a guard was con¬ 
tinuously passing to and fro. Moreover, he could not 
have wormed his way into the closed alley-way, where 





IN THE HOLD 


51 


he would have stumbled against half a dozen other 
guards. How had he made his escape? 

“It’s enough to send one off one’s head,” muttered 
the Captain. “However much of a scoundrel he is, 
he is not the devil.” 

“Yes, he is the devil,” declared de Vilene. “But 
that doesn’t help us for all that.” 

They determined to question the warder, and they 
beckoned him to come to the cell. The man at once 
stumbled against the dead bodies. He started back 
in dismay. 

“These are your comrades. Cheri-Bibi killed 
them,” said the Captain. 

“Poor fellows!” he said in a choking voice 
“They were expecting it.” 

“What do you mean, ‘they were expecting it?’ ” 

“When they came on guard Cheri-Bibi said to 
them: ‘Oh, it’s you. It’s a bad lookout for you/ 
And before I locked them in they said to me: 
‘What’s he up to? He’s going to play some dirty 
trick on us.’ I laughed at them and had a look at 
the irons. I pointed to their revolvers and I said: 
‘What are you afraid of? He has his paws in a trap, 
and you are two against one.’ And then I locked 
the door.” 

“Didn’t you hear anything?” 

“Not a sound. No one stirred. They didn’t cry 
out. There wasn’t so much as a breath. . . . Oh, 




52 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


the poor fellows! . . . But how did Cheri-Bibi get 
out?” 

“Listen, Pascaud. I trust you,” said the Captain. 
“If it were not you, I should believe that you were 
an accomplice.” 

“Accomplice of what, Captain? . . . There’s no 
possibility of being an accomplice here. We watch 
each other. We are all of us after each other. I’ve 
not left the alley-way; the warders can tell you so. 
And even if I’d opened the door to Cheri-Bibi, it 
wouldn’t explain anything. I haven’t got the key of 
the irons. And how did he kill two men who were 
armed, men who were watching him, please believe 
me? Do you suggest that I killed my comrades? If 
so, you should say so.” 

“Silence, Pascaud. You know very well that that’s 
merely a manner of speaking. We don’t know how 
he got out.” 

“No; but I had to say something,” returned the 
warder. “He wasn’t carried off by the wind, what? 
Well, devil take it, it’s a nice thing.” 

He too searched the cell for an outlet, a hole 
of some sort. . • . And like the officers he found 
nothing. 

“It’s past belief,” he said, more amazed than 
frightened. “Well, shall I tell you what I think? 
The men above in the cages knew about it beforehand. 

. . . I’m sure they got wind of it. Take it from me, 
they’ve been expecting it. They’ve been too pleased 




IN THE HOLD 


53 




with themselves, having the time of their lives during 
the last forty-eight hours. And as I said to myself 
this morning, it’s not natural; they’re faking up 
something. Keep your eyes open! . . . And if 
you’ll allow me, Captain, I’ll make a suggestion. 
We can get to know things through them. We 
must listen to them, that’s all.” 

“They’re holding their tongues above now,” said 
the Captain in a hollow and threatening voice. 

“Oh, let ’em have a walk on the upper decks with¬ 
out rousing their suspicions. Believe me, that’s where 
the exchange of secrets takes place. ... I have an 
idea that they communicate with one another when 
they’re on deck. ... At any rate they exchange 
letters there, you know. . . . And I swear, Captain, 
that in most cases it’s not our fault. It’s the sailors’ 
fault.” 

“How do you mean? Look here, explain your¬ 
self. What you tell me is very serious.” 

“Isn’t the death of our comrades serious? ... I 
say again that the sailors and the women are to 
blame. Now you’ve got it, Captain. ... I tell you 
that the men and the women are exchanging love 
letters all the time. They give the glad eye on deck, 
and write to each other below just as I say. And 
the sailor is the postman. A scrap of paper is 
quickly thrown or slipped between two bars, you 
know. . . . And the women pay for the sailor’s 
complicity.” 




54 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“What do you mean?” asked de Vilene, who had 
always suspected something of the kind but had not 
been able to catch them in the act in spite of extreme 
vigilance. 

“What do I mean? . . . Well, the cells have 
something to do with it, I assure you.” 

“The cells!” 

“Yes, the women’s cells. . . . There are women 
who get themselves sent to the cells so as to be able 
to talk more freely.” 

“Let’s have this out. . . . Speak more plainly.” 

“Well, it’s like this. Their game is a very simple 
one, and they play it under our noses. When the 
sailor and the woman, thanks to those scraps of paper, 
have come to an understanding between themselves, 
the woman knows what she’s got to do . . . get her¬ 
self sent down for insubordination, that’s all. . . . 
Now the cell remains unlocked when no one is in it. 
So the sailor finds his way into it, and lies down in 
the comer containing the sleeping-bench, or rather, 
under the head-rest. It’s as dark as pitch. The 
woman is brought in and locked up with the sailor. 
The thing’s not so very hard to manage.” 

“You, Pascaud, you knew about it and you did 
not report it! You deserve a week in irons,” growled 
the Captain. 

De Vilene checked him in his sudden fit of severity. 

“What this man says is very important. . . . How 
did you discover all this?” 




IN THE HOLD 


55 


“Oh, I saw it for myself, and I wasn’t overproud 
of it at the time, I can assure you, Captain. It 
happened three days ago. I was on my rounds see¬ 
ing to the cleanliness of the ship, a duty that is only 
done every three days. I and my men had got to 
the cells, and I pinched an offender who was still in 
the corner.” 

“Why didn’t you bring him before me?” 
demanded Barrachon. 

“Well, sir, because as it happened it was a military 
overseer this time.” 

“A military overseer! All the more reason for 
reporting him. You are a sergeant. You deserve to 
be reduced to the ranks. Give me his name at once.” 

“Yes, sir. His name is Francesco and he’s a 
Porto Vecchio man.” 

“Francesco? Do you know him, de Vilene?” 

“Yes, Captain,” replied the Lieutenant. “I 
know him. Here he is.” So saying, de Vilene 
pointed with his foot to one of the bodies on the floor 
of the cell. 

“He has paid the penalty,” groaned Pascaud. 
“Now I can give him away, poor fellow. But you 
may be certain that he would never have done it if 
the sailors hadn’t shown him the way. He wanted 
to take advantage of the opportunity like the others. 
Oh, it’s awful. How can such things be. . . . And 
now he’s punished for it. I said to him: ‘Mind 
what you’re doing, Francesco, it’ll bring you bad 




56 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


luck to have anything to do with the prisoners.’ 
But he was that way inclined, and liked to show off 
when his duty took him near the women’s cage. 
Look here, there was one to whom he never failed to 
say a pleasant word and to show some indulgence. 
I can tell you about it now that he is dead. It was 
that black-eyed she-wolf, you know, the Kanaka’s 
wife. But of course you don’t know her. . . . Well, 
they call her the Countess. By the way, she was sent 
down to the cells only a little while ago.” 

“The woman who made a grab at you, Captain,” 
said de Vilene. 

“Oh yes, a regular she-wolf.” 

“But I say,” exclaimed Pascaud, “he must have 
heard something. She’s in the next cell.” 

On the Captain’s orders they at once left Cheri- 
Bibi’s cell and entered that of the Countess. No 
sound came from the cell, nor did the prisoner show 
any sign of life. They were astonished, and it was 
with growing anxiety that they threw a light in the 
corners. The Countess was no longer there. 

“Well, this is about the limit!” exclaimed the 
Sergeant. 

The Lieutenant did not say a word, but carefully 
pushed aside the plank which was used as a sleeping- 
bench, and a flash of light from his dark lantern, 
turned towards the deck, showed the Captain a gap 
large enough to permit anyone to slip through. * 

Barrachon and the Sergeant were about to utter an 




IN THE HOLD 


57 


exclamation, but the Lieutenant, with a quick gesture, 
stopped them. 

De Vilene at once put out his lantern and 
the three men left the cell on tiptoe. Quietly they 
locked the door. The guards on duty in the alley- 
way w r ere greatly perplexed by these various move¬ 
ments, and halted in their everlasting march up and 
down. 

“Keep moving. What are you standing there 
for?” whispered the Lieutenant. 

The men once more started to pound the deck with 
their heavy tread. 

Barrachon realized the position. The convicts 
must not suspect that they were discovered, if it 
could be avoided. The three men were at one in 
agreeing that Cheri-Bibi and the Countess had 
escaped through the hole. 

They could not imagine how Cheri-Bibi had shaken 
off his warders, or how he had joined the Countess; 
but they felt certain that both convicts had gone 
down that way. And they concentrated their thoughts 
on the problem of how to catch them again. The 
cavity ran down to the old small arms magazine which 
had been transformed into a goods hold, and almost 
entirely filled with bales intended for merchants in 
Cayenne. Though the convicts might find places in 
which to hide themselves, they would not be able to 
hold out for any length of time, because they would 
inevitably be surrounded and discovered. 





58 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


They would attempt to take the convicts unawares 
by using the ladder which led direct to the store¬ 
rooms, for they must not think of descending through 
the hole. Otherwise the entire crew would have to 
go through the mill and be killed one by one. 
Cheri-Bibi was not in the habit of doing things by 
halves. 

The Captain, impelled by the necessity for action, 
desired to descend the ladder at once, but de Vilene 
persuaded him to listen to reason, and a body of ten 
warders were brought along, without any attempt at 
secrecy, by Pascaud, who went to fetch them as if 
he wanted them for some ordinary duty. 

He merely told them to go below with their rifles, 
an order which did not excite any surprise inasmuch 
as all the men in this floating barracks were armed. 
The convicts watched the men pass as though it were 
an everyday sight, without expressing the slightest 
astonishment or the smallest curiosity. But in the 
financiers’ cage the convict called the Top, of hilar¬ 
ious temper, and a fraudulent banker by trade, gave 
utterance to the fantastic and insufferable chuckle 
which always maddened the guard. The Captain told 
the men the truth. They gazed at each other with 
terror in their eyes. They would have to fight Cheri- 
Bibi, who was armed and had taken refuge in the old 
small arms magazine after murdering two of their 
number. They were, without doubt, burning for 
revenge, but what a piece of work it was! How 




IN THE HOLD 


59 


were they to set about it? The very simple plan, 
the too simple plan, which the Captain explained to 

them, was received with a wry face. If Cheri-Bibi 
were discovered, and gave himself up without resist¬ 
ance, his life was to be spared! He would be tried 
in accordance with the regulations, and executed in 
accordance with the law. If he defended himself, 

then, of course, he was to be given no quarter. He 
was to he shot on the spot. 

“Have you anything else to suggest, my dear 
de Vilene?” asked the Captain, turning to the 
Lieutenant in accordance with his usual custom and 
system of consulting the junior officers on the 
measures, even of the gravest kind, which had to be 
taken in common. 

It was not that the worthy man was lacking in 
initiative or feared to assume responsibility; but he 
wanted everything that happened on board between 
him and his subordinates to be done, as he said, “on 
a family basis,” and “under the auspices of an en¬ 
tirely paternal discipline.” 

De Vilene was boiling with impatience. He felt 
with reason that they were wasting time, but since his 
advice had been asked, he gave it. 

“It’s not a question of Cheri-Bibi probably defend¬ 
ing himself, he will certainly defend himself. What 
has he to gain by sparing us? Absolutely nothing. 
His fate is settled in any event. He is a wild beast 
at bay. Before he is killed he will be intent on one 




60 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


thing only—shooting down as many of us as he 
possibly can. Don’t let us, therefore, play his game 
by exposing ourselves to his shots. My opinion is 
that as soon as we open the hatch we should sweep 
the field by firing, as quickly as possible, a volley 
round the ladder and then rushing down into the 
hold.” 

The Captain replied: 

“I shall lead the way and call upon him to 
surrender, and you must follow me.” 

“Very good, Captain.” 

The convict guards were literally trembling at the 
thought of the adventure, so greatly had Cheri-Bibi 
spread terror among them. 

De Vilene had already ordered them to bring 
torches and lanterns, so that each man should be able 
to light his own way. 

Taking Pascaud aside he said: 

“You are posted on guard here and must stay 
here. Watch the hole quietly with a couple of men. 
If Cheri-Bibi and the woman try to come up this way, 
shoot them.” 

Pascaud replied in a gloomy voice that the Lieu¬ 
tenant could rely on him. 

At the moment when they were about to uncover the 
hatch, the Captain informed the men that Cheri-Bibi 
was not alone, but was below with a woman whose 
life it was desirable to spare. 

“Not a bit of it!” growled the convict guards 





IN THE HOLD 


61 


when they learnt that they had the Countess to deal 
with. “She is probably more to be dreaded than 
the other.” 

In the midst of perfect silence they removed the 
hatch over the ladder. The Captain descended the 
first few rungs, holding on with one hand and carry¬ 
ing his revolver in the other. 

“No. 3216, I call upon you to surrender!” he 
shouted in a dull voice. 

The light from the torches illuminated only a small 
part of the hold, but they were able to distinguish 
bales in monotonous heaps carefully stowed and 
trimmed on either side of the little wooden gangway, 
called the platform deck of the hold, which led to the 
ladder. A few yards away the darkness was impene¬ 
trable, and throughout the hold an awful silence pre¬ 
vailed. Nothing broke the stillness, not even the 
sound of men breathing at the top of the ladder. The 
life of every man seemed suspended over this cavity, 
this mysterious abyss, where death was already cast¬ 
ing its shadows. 

The Captain remained there, unprotected, his body 
presenting itself to the shots of the terrible Cheri-Bibi 
and the she-wolf who was with him. 

“Look out!” cried the Lieutenant suddenly. 
“Look out, Captain. Something stirred over there 
behind that bale.” 

There was no need to order the men to fire. A 
tremendous report rang out in the hold. The warders 




62 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


had aimed their rifles over the heads of the two 
officers in the direction of the bale to which the 
Lieutenant had pointed. 

The Captain and the Lieutenant leapt down the 
ladder. The men scrambled after them. And for a 
moment they stood in a group behind the Captain, 
who stopped them with outstretched arms. 

The torches held aloft by the men threw back the 
darkness a few yards on the main gangway above the 
deck. 

And as soon as the noise and reverberation of 
the heavy explosion died away, the obscurity once 
more became hushed and mysterious and menacing. 

Then Barrachon repeated his summons. 

“No. 3216, will you surrender?” 

But whether it was that he refused to surrender or 
could not hear, No. 3216 did not answer. 

“Forward!” ordered the Captain. “Search 
everywhere.” 

The guards followed closely on the heels of their 
officers. 

In reality the examination of the hold was not so 
complicated as at first sight might have been thought. 
The merchandise was stowed away so symmetrically 
that it was impossible to slip one’s hand in between 
two bales or two boxes. The trim of the hold had 
been scientifically effected so as to prevent any sort 
of accident to the freight. 

By de Vilene’s orders—he himself was on his feet 




IN THE HOLD 


63 


—the men went down on their knees on the platform- 
deck of the hold, crawling on all fours like animals 
over the wooden hatches on the floor of the ship. 
The platform ran crosswise, two branches going from 
port to starboard and two others running from fore 
to aft. It did not take long to search the unoccupied 
space in the fore hold. They saw nothing, were 
stopped by nothing. 

“They must be here,” muttered the Captain. “They 
can’t have got away, unless they’ve gone up through 
their hole.” 

“That’s impossible,” declared de Vilene. “Pas- 
caud is on the lookout above with two men.” 

“Then they can’t have escaped. We must search 
again. The store-room has no other outlet. It is 
absolutely closed. They must be here.” 

Several bales which seemed to jut beyond the trim 
of the hold were moved, hut nothing suspicious was 
discovered, and they were replaced in their positions. 
A few casks were likewise clumsily rolled aside. 
Nothing was behind them. 

De Vilene displayed the greatest energy, and rum¬ 
maged in the darkness with systematic thoroughness. 
His search was no more successful than that of his 
men. 

Suddenly a pistol shot echoed, and a bullet whistled 
past the Captain’s ear. All the men fired, and there 
was a terrific uproar and confusion. What were they 




64 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


firing at? In what direction? It was a veritable 
miracle that no one was killed on the spot. 

Nevertheless a man lay groaning in the hold. They 
rushed up to him. He had received a bullet in his 
arm; a bullet fired by a fellow-warder. He explained 
that it was he who had fired the first shot; and the 
bullet must have rebounded past the Captain. What 
had he fired on? He could not say exactly; appar¬ 
ently a shadow had slipped between his legs, the 
shadow of a huge rat which disappeared under a 
plank. Then it was discovered when the plank was 
pulled up that it opened on to the main bilge. 

“Hang it all!” exclaimed the Captain. “They’ve 
had the cheek to make off that way.” 

This main bilge, the well-room of the ship, was 
at the bottom of the hull, and consisted of a narrow 
gut or channel into which flowed all the water on 
board. As soon as it was full, it was emptied by the 
pumps. At that moment it was but half full. Even 
for a man who was called Cheri-Bibi to have dared to 
use such a method of escape, showed that he was 
conscious that death was on his track. The Captain 
was in a state of despair. 

“Now they’re able to go wherever they please,” he 
said to de Vilene in a mournful tone. “From this 
well, such devils as they are will be able to communi¬ 
cate with every part of the ship. The fact that they 
will have to remove the hatches won’t worry them for 
long, and they will go where they please. Where 




IN THE HOLD 


65 


shall we look for them? The fore hold, the after 
hold, the store-rooms? They’ll go from the old small 
arms magazine to the coal bunkers. They’ll be walk¬ 
ing about among us as if they were in their own 
homes, and we shall be utterly nonplussed.” 

“If they are in the bilge, which is not yet certain,” 
replied de Vilene, “we can send them a few volleys 
from our revolvers on the off chance.” 

Flattening himself against the hatch he discharged 
his revolver and then waited, his ears on the alert. 
He caught only the sound of the plashing of the 
water, and rising to his feet said: 

“It’s quite simple! We should have to unload the 
entire cargo to find the pair of them!” 

He mustered his men near the ladder. The man 
with a bullet in his arm was whimpering like a child. 
The Captain ordered him to be silent. 

“You’re going to the sick-bay, my lad. You will 
be asked a lot of questions. For that matter every¬ 
one must, by now, be aware of the facts. You must 
tell those to whom you have anything to say that 
Cheri-Bibi is dead. ... Do you understand, all of 
you?” 

“Yes, yes,” replied the warders. “You can rely 
on us, Captain. The convicts will be only too de¬ 
lighted to hear it!” 




CHAPTER III 


SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 

Barrachon left six men in the hold, two of whom 
were ordered to stand by the hatch over the bilge. 

“If they’re not already dead they’ll soon be 
drowned,” said a warder who had closely inspected 
the level of the water. “There’s hardly enough room 
for them to hold their heads above water and to 
breathe.” 

“To my thinking they won’t get out of it,” said 
another. “What do you expect them to do? They 
can’t climb up through the pump-pipes.” 

The Captain and the Lieutenant joined Pascaud in 
the cell from which the Countess had disappeared. 

“Well,” said the Sergeant. “What’s the result?” 

“Nothing. We haven’t found him,” returned the 
Captain after dismissing the men. “The only thing 
is that the guards are spreading the report that Cheri- 
Bibi is dead so as to prevent people on board losing 
their heads.” 

Pascaud expressed the opinion that it was the right 
thing to say to keep the convicts quiet. 

“Have you discovered anything?” asked de Vilene. 

The Sergeant shook his head. 

66 


SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 67 


“I can understand,” he said, “how she escaped 
seeing there’s a hole, but we ought to find out how 
Cheri-Bibi managed to get out. Now, you know, I’ve 
groped about everywhere. There’s no communica¬ 
tion between the two cells, not' the slightest. Cheri- 
Bibi’s cell is as solidly closed now as it was when 
he was in it. So what does it mean? It’s a conjuring 
trick or witchcraft—you can’t get away from 
that. . . 

In Cheri-Bibi’s cell they were once more confronted 
by the dead warders and the problem which they pre¬ 
sented. And they were no further advanced in its 
solution. After throwing a net over the two bodies 
and leaving a couple of lanterns near them, like 
burning tapers in a mortuary chamber, the Captain 
and the Lieutenant went on deck. No one on the 
Bayard spoke of anything but the tremendous event: 
the death of Cheri-Bibi. He had been shot point 
blank in the hold in attempting to escape with the 
Kanaka’s wife, an old offender. She was wounded; 
details were given. 

She had defended herself like a lioness. The 
Countess, indeed, in the imagination of those on 
board, changed her animal personality according to 
circumstances; now she was a she-wolf for cruelty, 
now a tigress for ferocity, and now a lioness for 
courage. 

It was chiefly among the government officials who 
were returning to their posts, and the warders’ fami- 




68 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


lies, who all gathered together in the daytime in the 
after part of the vessel, on the poop, that gossip on 
board reached unending lengths. That day young 
women ceased to sing, and children to play, and 
Cheri-Bibi’s name was on everyone’s lips. The poop 
was, in general, the one cheerful spot in this floating 
citadel in which, everywhere else, one caught sight 
only of grilles, rifles, revolvers, and uniforms, and 
caps with more or less gold lace on them. The tidings 
of Cheri-Bibi’s death were welcomed with special de¬ 
light. So much had been said about the villain that 
the ladies were glad for themselves and for their hus¬ 
bands’ sake that they were rid of him. 

They were well acquainted with the convicts’ little 
peculiarities, for they scrutinized them with curiosity 
when they came on deck, in batches, to breathe the 
sea air, and walk in a circle on the fore “quarter” 
under the perpetual menace of the rifles. They would 
not, to be sure, have mistaken the Top for Little 
Buddha, although both men were as round as tops 
and were dressed alike; and they “knew the facts” 
and the “antecedents” of each man. They were rather 
proud of traveling in the same ship with “notorious 
persons whose names had figured in all the news¬ 
papers.” They exchanged views as to which man 
looked most to be feared or most to be pitied. The 
Toper and the Kanaka had for long excited their 
attention, which had now died away. Cheri-Bibi was 




SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 69 


the only man in whom their interest had not grown 
stale. But he was never to be seen. 

Cheri-Bibi persistently declined “to take the prom¬ 
enade on deck,” and showed such obstinacy that the 
guards had ended by leaving him alone. Cheri-Bibi 
spumed the Captain’s favors. Cheri-Bibi remained 
lolling in his cage or cell, refusing to show himself. 
And now the gossips, notwithstanding the acute desire 
that had possessed them, would never see him. He 
was dead. 

When the Captain and the Lieutenant crossed the 
deck to reach the chart-room, to visit the Navigating 
Officer, Sub-Lieutenant Kerrosgouet, the ladies would 
gladly have cheered them. But they, too, had some 
sense of discipline, and they kept silent. They would 
have liked to know what the men were saying below 
in the convict prisons—the cages were so called in 
official language—but the convicts were saying noth¬ 
ing at all. The silence was maintained. 

And it was this strange silence that formed the sub¬ 
ject of discussion between the Captain, the Lieutenant, 
the Navigating Officer, the Inspector, and the Overseer 
General in the chart-room where they met together 
to hold a council of war. Barrachon chose this spot 
in preference to any other because from its position 
he overlooked the entire ship, and could plainly see 
through the scuttles what was occurring on deck. 

The Navigating Officer, the Inspector, and the 
Overseer General leamt the truth with alarm and 





70 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


dismay. Cheri-Bibi was not dead. Cheri-Bibi was 
free somewhere in the ship. It was too late that day 
to open the hatchways and the hatches over the hold, 
as the Captain suggested, and send all the available 
guards and armed sailors below, so as to engage in 
a swift and general chase which could not fail, in the 
end, to produce a satisfactory result. The plan would 
be put into operation, at the earliest hour, the next 
day. Meanwhile they decided that during the night 
sentries should guard every entrance, every ladder, 
every passage, even those which led to the passengers’ 
and officers’ berths, and that fifty warders, revolver in 
hand, should pace up and down outside the cages on 
the lower and upper gun decks until morning. 

“If there are any convicts who doubt Cheri-Bibi’s 
death, these measures will keep them quiet,” observed 
the young Kerrosgouet. 

“Oh, we can’t teach them anything!” declared the 
inspector. “They know all that there is to know now, 
simply because they know all that goes on before we 
do. In my opinion, they’re waiting in silence for 
something to happen; something that we know noth¬ 
ing about.” 

“They give me the same impression,” agreed the 
Overseer General. “I’ve never seen them like this 
before. They.are acting in the cages in accordance 
with some prearranged signal. One would think that 
they were afraid of producing an outburst before they 
are ready for this thing that we know nothing about.” 





SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 71 


“What can they do?” asked de Vilene. “We should 
shoot them down like rabbits.” 

“It would give us a lot of trouble afterwards,” 
interposed the Inspector. 

“Well, Monsieur, it would certainly have been more 
to the point if a better watch had been kept on them 
before now,” muttered Barrachon. 

Without mentioning Pascaud, the Captain revealed 
the trick of the correspondence that was carried on 
between these delightful people in which sailors, 
women, and love were intermingled. He was glad 
to put before him the case of Francesco of Porto 
Vecchio, caught in the act. 

“Oh, we shall never prevent them from writing to 
women,” said the Inspector, whose face became scar¬ 
let under the reproof. “I don’t know how they man¬ 
age it. They haven’t any ink or pen or paper or 
anything. Moreover, they are searched again and 
again. . . . And that doesn’t prevent them from 
writing . . . and nothing prevents them from buying 
bottles of rum! We saw that only a few hours ago. 
. . . This is not the first time, Captain, that 1 have 
been utterly nonplussed. You don’t know how Cheri- 
Bibi got out, and I don’t know how the bottles of 
rum got in! See! . . . Watch them now, they look 
as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths!” 

He pointed through the scuttles to a few convicts 
whose turn it was to take the air and who were dole¬ 
fully promenading the deck. 




72 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


As it happened the Toper, the Kanaka, Little 
Buddha, and Carrots were together. During the few 
minutes in which they were permitted to stretch them¬ 
selves on deck under the watchful eyes of the guards, 
they at first yawned enough to put their jaws out of 
joint, and then talked “philosophy.” Were they com 
scious that the guards were listening to every word 
they said? The news of Cheri-Bibi’s death, which had 
been cried aloud by the guards from deck to deck, 
could not have left them so utterly indifferent; and 
yet the Kanaka said in a casual tone: 

“How sad it must have been for our poor Cheri- 
Bibi to die without seeing the penal settlement again. 
He was mentioning it to me only a few days ago, and 
spoke of the delight it would be to him to visit once 
more the land where for the first time in his life he 
enjoyed a little rest.” 

“If he were as happy as all that,” said Carrots, “I 
don’t see why he left it.” 

“It was gold that did it,” explained the Kanaka. 
“He told me about it, and I’ll give you the story, be¬ 
cause, after all, it will put a little pluck into those 
who are fond of the precious metal. It appears that 
at Guiana there’s a gold mine, the existence of which 
is known only to the prisoners. The Government has 
done its utmost to discover it, but don’t they wish they 
may get it! Meanwhile the old offenders work the 
mine in common. Each man slips away in turn, goes 
and works at the mine, comes back with the gold, 




SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 73 


and stands treat to the whole community. Of course 
when the man returns he can’t avoid a few days in 
prison. But what does that matter if he is rich? 
Well, one day Cheri-Bibi came back very rich; so 
rich that he was able to buy a small boat and the 
consciences of a couple of warders. In this way he 
reached Maroni river, and managed to return to 
France, where, he said, he found things deadly dull. 
He wanted to become an honest man, and he couldn’t 
do it! And then he’d spent all his money. So he 
worked to be sent back to his pals again. But it’s all 
over. He’ll never see them any more. Poor Cheri- 
Bibi!” 

The others took up the refrain and sighed: 

“Poor Cheri-Bibi!” 

“What poor devils we all are!” broke in Little 
Buddha after a moment’s silence which was appar¬ 
ently devoted to the dead man’s memory. “He was 
in the prime of life.” 

“As strong as a lion,” suggested the Toper. 

“As strong as a lion. And yet he didn’t know how 
to control his temperament.” 

“We are all at the mercy of our temperaments,” 
said the Kanaka, the ex-trader in dead bodies, in the 
manner of a lecturer. “You, the Toper, you sulfer 
from irritability. That’s the temperament which is 
characteristic of dangerous and caustic persons who 
do great things in the world. Your works have been 
crimes, but you are not to blame for them. You can 




74 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


say that from me to the Great Judge when the time 
comes for you to give an account of yourself. You, 
Little Buddha, you suffer from sluggishness; in other 
words, you were born lazy and a pessimist. There’s 
no hope for you, poor boy, with such bad luck, for 
you know as well as I do that idleness is the mother 
of all the vices. As to Carrots, he is of a sanguine 
temperament; he has strong, fiery, impulsive passions, 
and a temper hard to subdue. And, in fact, there’s 
only one thing that is in his favor, and that’s his 
bad character.” 

“How well he can hold forth,” observed Carrots. 
“But, I say, my dear old medicine man, have you 
heard the latest? They say that the Countess has 
bolted with the ‘boss.’ ” 

“If it pleases him I’ve no objection,” returned the 
Kanaka unconcernedly. “There’s been a coldness 
between madame and myself for some time.” 

At this moment the Toper was lying at full length 
on the deck, seemingly dozing off into a sleep; but his 
hand was under his cap, which had been flung down 
beside him, and he was taking a deal of trouble to 
slip a tiny note, that did not take up more room than 
a postage stamp, into a crevice between two battens 
of the deck. When the operation was completed, he 
rose to his feet in the most natural manner; for the 
convicts were returning to the lower decks, urged 
forward by the guards, who drove them before them 
like cattle. 





SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 75 


The men were extraordinarily docile, notwithstand¬ 
ing the hard words, and still harder blows from the 
butt-ends of revolvers, which they received from the 
warders. Little Buddha became quite poetic. He 
said to a young chick that stretched out its beak 
between the bars of the hen-coop: 

“You are very fortunate, for you can see the sun¬ 
rise every day!” 

“Try to continue to do so!” the Kanaka thought it 
well to add. 

And when on their way below, the ex-doctor and 
the ex-clerk to a sheriff’s officer treated each other 
with elaborate courtesy with their “After you,” they 
each received a kick which accelerated their move¬ 
ments. 

“That’s to help you to come to an agreement!” 
said the warder, thrusting his revolver in their faces, 
for they turned round furious at so gross an insult. 
“Well, what’s the matter?” said the warder. “Do 
you want to send me your seconds?” 

The entire batch of men burst into laughter. 

“You see how nicely they behave now that Cheri- 
Bibi is dead,” said a warder. And he slammed the 
door of the cage with a bang on Little Buddha’s 
fingers. Little Buddha, swelling with pleasure, eyes 
upturned, had cleverly taken away his hand; but only 
just in the nick of time! 

“Another day, dear friend,” said Little Buddha 




76 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


to the guards. “Good night, dear friend. Pleasant 
dreams!” 

He hung up his hammock, begging his neighbor 
not to “give him the hold,” which was an expression 
used to describe the trick of unfastening the ham¬ 
mock so that the sleeper should fall to the deck—for 
he wanted to see the brightness of the morrow in good 
health. 

Meanwhile an event of some interest was happen¬ 
ing on deck at the very spot which the convicts had 
just left. The Navigating Officer, M. de Kerrosgouet 4 
was walking with a reflective air round the hen-coops 
and the cattle-pens, now raising his eyes aloft study¬ 
ing the weather, and then letting his gaze stray to 
his feet in the attitude of a man in deep thought. A 
light breeze was still blowing, although, unfortu¬ 
nately, it came from the northwest, but that was a 
detail which was hardly likely to cause the officer any 
concern. So why was he there? He ought to have 
been in the chart-room. Suddenly his preoccupation 
seemed to vanish; he pulled himself up in his walk, 
and quickly, casually, after stopping a moment at the 
sight of some sailors slaughtering an ox wdiich had 
negligently broken a couple of its legs during the 
rough weather, he returned to the chart-room which 
his superior officers had not left, for they had been 
watching his various movements through the scuttles. 

“Well?” said the Captain. 




SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 77 


“It's done. I was right. The man called the Toper 
slipped a piece of paper between two battens.” 

“Why didn’t you bring it to us?” 

“Because we can always get it from the person who 
comes to fetch it.” 

“Exactly,” agreed the Lieutenant. “Let’s break up, 
and let each man go on his business as if Cheri-Bibi 
was in his cell, or if there were no such person.” 

“I will stay at my post to see the last act of the 
farce,” said Kerrosgouet. 

But as they were about to separate their attention 
was attracted by the vision of a newcomer who was 
walking the deck with a thoughtful expression, as 
Kerrosgouet had done a moment before, and was now 
and again looking about as if in search of something. 
Their astonishment knew no bounds, for the new¬ 
comer wore a cornette, the large white cornette with 
turned back wings of the Sisters of St. Vincent de 
Paul, and under this white cornette they could dis¬ 
tinguish the pale, sad, gentle and innocent face of 
Sister St. Mary of the Angels. 

This sister of mercy, whom the Government had per¬ 
mitted to sail for Cayenne where Sister St. Mary had 
courageously asked to serve in the hospital so as to 
be near the most miserable among men, was admired 
by everyone on board—crew, passengers, convicts. 

Her lovable disposition, in spite of a touch of sad¬ 
ness which never left her, the frequent little services 
which she rendered the wives and families of the 




78 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


warders, her solicitation with the authorities on behalf 
of convicts who were at death’s door from heat or 
hunger or thirst in the cells or cages, not less than her 
gracious beauty, quickly made her popular. Never¬ 
theless when Sister St. Mary failed to soften the rigid¬ 
ity of the discipline on board, she was the first to 
submit to its necessity, however hard it might be for 
the miserable wretches whom this saintly girl so 
greatly pitied. Could it be possible that in these cir¬ 
cumstances the virtuous St. Mary of the Angels had 
secretly entered into correspondence with a man of 
the loathsome character of the Toper, and this, too, 
at a moment when it had become essential to exercise 
a greater measure of severity with the convicts? 

The idea was so utterly inconceivable that the 
officers would not have believed it had they not wit¬ 
nessed the incident with their own eyes. 

The nun, after a last glance round her on this 
deserted part of the deck, stooped quickly, pretending 
to pick up some object which had dropped from her 
wide sleeves. Now those sleeves, like the Toper’s 
cap, remained a sufficient time on the deck to enable 
the small hands underneath them to move freely. 

Sister St. Mary had never walked so quickly, but 
was no longer of the beautiful pallor which gave her, 
under her white cornette, so much charm; a color 
suffused her cheeks. She made sure that no one had 
seen her stoop, and she went off, gliding over the 
deck with a fleetness which seemed still further to be 




SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 79 


assisted by the fluttering white wings of her cornette. 

Nevertheless she was obliged for a moment to turn 
round, for she heard footsteps behind her. She recog¬ 
nized the Captain, bowed to him, and hurriedly went 
on her way. 

Sister St. Mary had never walked so quickly, but 
the footsteps followed close behind her. Thus she 
reached her cabin, which was in the after part of the 
vessel, somewhat out of breath. She opened the door, 
and without turning round, tried to close it, but a 
hand interposed and a voice said: 

“I beg your pardon, Sister.” 

The nun once more changed color. She was now 
ghastly white. She stared at the Captain haggard¬ 
eyed, and could scarcely stammer: 

“What do you want me for?” 

“I want the letter that you picked up on deck.” 

“I didn’t ... I didn’t pick anything up,” she said, 
almost fainting. “I assure you. Captain, that I don’t 
know what you mean.” 

“Yes, you do, Sister, and I am shocked to hear you 
tell such a falsehood.” 

She drew back as if she intended to shut the door. 
. . . The Captain advanced a step. 

“Heavens!” she cried. “You’re not coming in 
here.” 

“Not if you give me the letter.” 

She drew back still farther, and owing to the size 
of her sleeves the Captain could not see what she was 




80 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


doing with her hands. Then he made up his mind. 
He boldly went into the cabin, leaving the door open. 

The nun leant against the wall to prevent herself 
from falling. 

“Listen to me,” said the Captain. “Unless you do 
as I tell you, and give me that note written by a con¬ 
vict, I shall be compelled to order a Sister to take it 
from you by force.” 

She did not reply. The Captain went on: 

“You don’t want me to do that, I presume? But 
what is it you do want, after all, by communicating 
in this way with convicts without our consent and in 
spite of us? Do you know that it is a terrible offense 
which might bring down on you the most disastrous 
consequences?” 

Her eyes, which at first flashed in anger, now be¬ 
came soft again. 

“I know what I owe to your character, to the mis¬ 
sion to which you have devoted yourself . . . but, 
Sister St. Mary, you must understand that there are 
certain things that I cannot allow. I must not, I will 
not, for instance, admit that breaches of discipline 
may be made under the guise of charity. . . . Why 
are you so obstinate? Be careful! ... I may soon 
find myself compelled to believe that there is in this 
something more than an indiscretion due to your zeal 
as a Christian. . . . For, after all, you told me a lie. 
• . . Let us call things by their proper names 


• • • 




SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 81 


and since you lied to me, you must have had some 
serious motive for doing so. . . . Give me the letter.” 

“I haven’t got it. I ... I haven’t got it. . . . 
Monsieur, please . . . take my word . . . and leave 
me.” 

She fell inert at his feet. Her knees sharply struck 
the deck. But the Captain was in no mood to pity her. 

r ‘You are covering up your hands. Show me your 
hands. Can’t you understand that your attitude gives 
me every reason to suspect the worst? During the 
last few days we have been trying to discover how it 
is that the convicts know everything that happens on 
hoard, every step that we take against them, to insure 
our common safety. We are trying to find how they 
communicate with one another from cage to cage, 
from deck to deck, and manage in this way to plan 
some mysterious plot, the nature of which we do not 
know but the menace of which we feel. . . . Who 
tells them what they want to know? . . . Who is 
their tool? ... Is it, by chance, you, Sister St. Mary 
of the Angels? . . . Oh, unconsciously, I wish to 
believe, and so that I may believe it, I must have that 
paper.” 

He suddenly caught hold of her hands and snatched 
it from her. 

It was an insignificant scrap of paper on which was 
written simply: 

“Cheri-Bibi is not dead.” 

The Captain, more amazed than he could say, read 




82 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


the short sentence out loud. The Sister heaved a 
sigh, and collapsed on the floor of her cabin in a dead 
faint. 

“What can Cheri-Bibi have to do with her?” he 
said to himself. “It’s most extraordinary.” 

He called the women, who came hurrying in and 
set about trying to bring Sister St. Mary to herself. 
In distracted tones they asked the Captain what had 
happened to the Sister, but he went away, completely 
absorbed in thought, without making any reply. 

Cheri-Bibi was not dead. Everyone on board knew 
it now. Everyone was fully aware of the frightful 
tragedy that had taken place, and when during the 
evening a funeral stretcher, over which a sheet had 
been thrown, was brought up from the lower deck, 
everyone knew what was underneath it. Moreover, 
the two murdered warders had wives and children, 
and no attempt was made to hide the calamity from 
them any longer, and the sound of their moans and 
their cries of despair soon reached the little colony 
of warders’ families. 

Curses w T ere uttered against Cheri-Bibi, and a feel¬ 
ing of terror seized everyone. The darkness of the 
night increased the apprehension. Those who could, 
locked themselves in their cabins, but no one slept, 
and men and women stood by their weapons until 
daylight. 

Where was the ruffian? If he could vanish in this 
way it was reasonable to suppose that he could appear 





SISTER ST. MARY OF THE ANGELS 83 


at will. Everything was possible to him. He was 
dreaded as though he were some specter for whom 
natural and human laws did not exist, and who could 
prowl about everywhere without encountering the 
obstacles which would stand in the way of other living 
persons. 

The sailors themselves were not more easy in their 
minds. At their stations, and in their mess, they 
talked of nothing but the amazing prisoner who had 
managed to break loose from his irons. Their super¬ 
stitious instincts, for many of them were Bretons, 
had full play, and since it was impossible to explain 
his escape in any “Christian” way, it was obvious 
that he was in league with the devil. 

It was no use doubling the guards and placing sen¬ 
tries on every hand, for the men feared that he might 
at any moment take it into his head to commit some 
fresh murder and to disappear once more. Cheri- 
Bibi represented evil itself stalking on earth; and here 
he was roaming freely about the Bayard with the 
woman of the fiery black eyes. 

A door opened and each one turned round with a 
look of fear, the conversation was hushed, and they 
held their breath. And then a sigh of relief went up 
from every breast. It was the Dodger who was bring¬ 
ing in the food. 

The Dodger was, moreover, the most “funky” of 
all. He made his friends go with him to the lower 
decks armed to the teeth, and told stories that were 




84 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


enough to make the bravest shudder. He thought he 
saw Cheri-Bibi everywhere, and he cried out like a 
child at his own shadow which the light of a lantern 
suddenly threw out before him. He arrived, out of 
breath, dropped on to a seat, and placed his hand upon 
his fast-beating heart. 

“Oh, my boys . . . my boys . . . I’m certain it 
was he ... I recognized his eyes . . . there, just 
now, on deck, and then he was gone. . . . Whosh! 
... he disappeared. . . .” 

On deck the men were far from being comfortable. 
Those who were on duty or formed the night watch 
saw Cheri-Bibi in the most natural shapes which 
loomed in the cloudless night in the comers of lad¬ 
ders, the poop decks, the gangways and even under 
the davits of the boats. Some old sailors, carried 
away by the excitement of their own fears, spent their 
watch telling startling ghost stories. . . . The shadow 
of the phantom vessel was dancing in the sea, and the 
shadow of the Flying Dutchman sped under the moon. 

And only in the cells did men sleep in absolute 
peace and quietness. 

The Bayard was then in Latitude 32.20° north and 
Longitude 24.50° west of the meridian of Paris. She 
had passed Madeira and the Peak of Teneriffe on 
her port quarter, and, leaving the African shores be¬ 
hind, was heading straight across the Atlantic. 




CHAPTER IV 


TERROR ON BOARD 

That Cheri-Bibi had found accomplices on board, 
the Captain was bound to acknowledge, but that Sister 
St. Mary of the Angels should be involved in the 
criminal’s escape was beyond his comprehension. 
Though this last point was one which greatly harassed 
him, he had no intention of wasting time by investi¬ 
gating it at that moment. 

The main thing, to begin with, was to recapture the 
scoundrel, alive or dead, come what may, and he 
would afterwards endeavor “to explain the inexpli¬ 
cable.” In order to carry out his project, Barrachon 
determined to “turn everything upside down in the 
old tub.” 

There is no need to describe in detail an under¬ 
taking which was without result. It was in vain that 
they searched and inspected the vessel from mast to 
keel, and that numbers of armed military overseers 
and sailors crowded into the hold with, as it were, 
the courage of despair and thirsting for revenge. 
Nothing was discovered. 

The main bilge-well itself was entirely emptied. It 
was hoped, in the end, that the scoundrel and the 

85 


86 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


terrible woman who was with him in his mad adven¬ 
ture were drowned, but unfortunately the searchers 
were soon undeceived. A plucky cabin boy, who 
made the dangerous venture of entering the well, came 
back without having seen the least thing. Cheri-Bibi 
and the Countess could not be found. 

4 T will have the coal bunkers cleared. I will have 
the hold cleared, and all the goods turned out and 
put back again. I swear that we’ll find him,” shouted 
the Captain, who had lost all his pleasantness of 
manner. He renewed his oath over the bodies of the 
hapless warders, which were ‘“thrown to the sharks” 
in a sack after a moving religious service at which 
all on board mingled their prayers and tears, save 
Sister St. Mary of the Angels, who did not put in an 
appearance. 

At lunch, after this sad ceremony, when the prin¬ 
cipal persons on board were brought together under 
the Captain’s presidency, the Sister’s absence was 
mentioned, and the warrant officers who were present 
the night before, and witnessed the little scene from 
the chart-room, which overlooked the deck, expressed 
their astonishment. 

The Captain did not tell them of his interview with 
Sister St. Mary, and he kept the Toper’s writing to 
himself, attributing the nun’s absence from the service 
to her indisposition. Sister St. Mary’s attitude, how¬ 
ever, perplexed him as much as anyone, but he de¬ 
termined not to let it be seen, for he considered that 




TERROR ON BOARD 


87 


quite enough mysteries were being talked about on 
board. 

And then be intended, after lunch, to visit and ques¬ 
tion the nun once more, and he believed that this time 
he would succeed in “pumping” her. Fully resolved 
to spare no one, and perturbed by the responsibility 
that he would incur if he failed to capture Cheri-Bibi, 
he replied to the questions which one and the other 
put to him by grunts. 

He wondered why the Lieutenant had not yet joined 
him at table. He was told that the officer must have 
been detained in the execution of his duty. . . . Af¬ 
terwards there was a depressing silence; for the 
thoughts of all of them were centered on Cheri-Bihi 
and the Countess. 

“The end of it will be that they’ll both die of hunger 
and thirst if they don’t show themselves,” groaned the 
Overseer General. 

“I don’t think so!” said the Inspector. “If they 
are in any of the holds they’ll find a way of getting 
some sort of food. There are provisions in the holds, 
nice things. In my opinion they have enough friends 
on board to be able to get water.” 

“Then such men will suffer for it,” declared Bar- 
rachon. “Whoever they are, they must know that 
they’ll be shot at the same time as Cheri-Bibi. Any 
man who assists the scoundrel in the slightest degree 
will be served like him.” 




88 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


6 What about the woman if we find her? Will she 
be shot, Captain?” 

“Do you imagine that I shall stand on ceremony? 
Shot or hanged, they will not escape punishment. But 
where is M. de Vilene? Has anything fresh hap¬ 
pened? De Kerrosgouet, go and see.” 

The Sub-Lieutenant left the table, and returned in 
a few minutes. He had not seen the Lieutenant, but 
had been told that he was below in the cages. 

“He is no doubt devoting himself to a supple¬ 
mentary inspection,” said Barrachon. “Perhaps he 
is having the kit bags ransacked. He’s got that affair 
of the bottles of rum on the brain. He was speaking 
to me about it again this morning, and said he 
wouldn’t feel quite easy until he had cleared things 

99 

up. 

De Kerrosgouet sat down again. The dishes were 
passed round, but once more the conversation lan¬ 
guished. 

At dessert the Captain broke a glass while empha¬ 
sizing that Cheri-Bibi must be somewhere or other. 
His opinion was shared by the company. Neverthe¬ 
less the Overseer General said: 

“Of course he is somewhere, but perhaps after all 
he is not on board.” 

And he diffidently put forward the theory that the 
awful couple had left the Bayard. 

“What do you mean?” asked Barrachon with a 




TERROR ON BOARD 


89 


shrug of his shoulders. “None of the boats are miss¬ 
ing. . . . And we should have seen them.” 

“They may simply have thro™ themselves into the 
sea.” 

“But how?” Barrachon burst out again. “It would 
be known. Every means of egress below is barred, 
and if they had come up on deck we might, perhaps, 
with all the wealth of sentries on the watch, have seen 
them! . . . Absurd! Let’s argue the thing out, but; 
let’s talk sense.” 

The Overseer General apologized, but he made the 
mistake of adding: 

“It’s a great pity.” 

“What’s a great pity?” asked the Captain in a tone 
which became more and more abrupt. 

“Well . . . it’s a pity that they haven’t left the 
ship. It would have been a good riddance.” 

The Captain gave a start. 

“You think so, do you? Well, allow me to tell 
you that you have a strange notion of your duty. As 
far as I am concerned, Cheri-Bibi was confided to my 
care. If I don’t see him again, living or dead, I know 
what the alternative for me will be.” 

The Captain spoke in such a tone that the others 
were very disagreeably impressed. They shivered to 
the very marrow. They already saw, in imagination, 
the worthy Barrachon blowing his brains out. And 
what endless trouble for them afterwards! What a 




WOLVES OF THE SEA 


90 


terrible responsibility! They would not forget No. 
3216 in a hurry! 

Meanwhile the Lieutenant was still absent. When 
coffee was served Barrachon was in a state of alarm 
and at the end of his endurance. He left the mess to 
look for the Lieutenant himself. De Vilene might 
have discovered something fresh. 

But the Captain’s anxiety only became deeper after 
he had searched the upper and lower decks. He could 
not find de Vilene anywhere. And no one had seen 
him for more than an hour. Some of them thought 
that they noticed him going below to the cages, but 
the convict guards stated that he had not visited them. 

When the officers joined him the Captain was in 
an agony of suspense. Every man set to work and 
the search proceeded with greater energy than ever. 
Nothing was found in de Vilene’s cabin which could 
put them on the track. The crew were now fully 
aware of his strange disappearance, and men as well 
as officers endeavored to probe the mystery. They 
shouted the Lieutenant’s name throughout the ship. 
It might be that he had been taken ill. It might be 
that he had suddenly met Cheri-Bibi and was killed. 

After vainly searching for him living they sought 
to find his dead body. 

But they were unable to find him living or dead. 
And a general consternation swept through the ship. 

Then every man on board, from the passengers to 
the least important merchant, was seized with a pecu- 




TERROR ON BOARD 


91 


liar agitation which originated in fear and reached 
its climax in frenzy. 

Literally they became desperate. And no wonder! 

The Captain had the work of the world to keep the 
fury of these men within bounds, for, without the 
least excuse, they wanted to break the heads of the 
old offenders. Revolvers were continually being 
pointed at them through the bars. Threats of death 
were uttered every moment, and yet the convicts had 
never behaved themselves so well. Even the Top had 
ceased his hateful chuckle, for he realized that if he 
laughed again it would be for the last time. 

The Inspector and the Overseer General, over¬ 
whelmed by the Lieutenant’s disappearance and won¬ 
dering if their turn might not come soon, resolved to 
link up their duties and to work together. 

A desire to be revenged on something or someone 
impelled them to ask the Captain to place the men in 
the cages on a “bread and water” diet, and*to abolish 
the exercise on deck. 

But Barrachon, who had been to his cabin to plunge 
his head into a basin of cold water, for he feared a 
stroke of apoplexy, came out with a gleam of sanity 
and refused to listen to any such dangerous measure. 

Every revolver was taken out of its case. Even the 
women on the decks were armed, and no one went 
alone into the alley-ways although sentries were posted 
in them at specified intervals. 

The new and appalling incident of the Lieutenant’s 




92 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


disappearance caused the Captain to forget for the 
moment the strange conduct of Sister St. Mary. But 
she herself was soon to remind him of her existence. 
It was an amazing thing, but this saintly girl who 
had not been seen during the whole day, even at the 
burial service, showed herself on deck, as on the day 
before, when the Toper’s horrible gang was brought 
up. 

Barrachon caught sight of her when she appeared, 
and stood watching her without letting himself be seen. 

She reached the guards, dragging herself along by 
the port-hole, and here, leaning against the ship’s 
side for support, she began to tell her beads. She 
seemed so weak that the Captain expected to see her 
collapse at any moment on the deck, as he had seen 
her, the day before, fall in an inert mass in her cabin. 

She was of a death-like pallor, but her eyes were 
extraordinarily bright. She was praying, and her 
gaze was fixed on the Toper, who had just taken up 
the position of the day before and was apparently 
preparing to “post” his letter. 

Thus Barrachon comprehended the object of which 
Sister St. Mary was on deck. She had come up to 
warn Cheri-Bibi’s friend that he must put an end to 
the correspondence. 

It was this message, to all appearance, that was 
expressed so eloquently by her eyes, her wide, beauti¬ 
ful flashing eyes. It was this that was indicated by 
the slight movement of her head from right to left 




TERROR ON BOARD 


93 


and left to right, a telegraphic negative. No more 
letters must be slipped between the planks. And it 
was this that the Toper understood, for the ruffian 
scrambled to his feet when he saw the Sister, and 
placed his hand in his pocket. 

Barrachon at once showed himself, and at a bound 
was at the side of the guards. 

“Search that man,” he cried, pointing to the con¬ 
vict. “At once ... at once. . . . Seize him by the 
arms . . . seize him by the arms.” 

Two military overseers rushed at the Toper, but he 
quickly shook them off and was fumbling in his pocket 
for the paper, meaning to put it in his mouth. 

“The paper . . . the paper, . . .” shouted the 
Captain. “Seize him by the arms.” 

The convict was of herculean strength, and clutch¬ 
ing one warder by the throat and getting free from 
the other, swallowed the paper. The first guard was 
gasping for breath, and unable to carry out the Cap¬ 
tain’s orders. 

“Fire . . . fire, man,” he shouted. 

The Captain himself leveled his revolver, but it 
was a guard who fired the shot straight at the Toper’s 
heart. 

Nevertheless the convict did not receive the bullet. 
Sister St. Mary of the Angels had thrown herself into 
the fray, and lifted her shaking arm towards the 
weapon which hurled forth death. The shot passed 
through the poor girl’s hand and shoulder, and she 




94 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


sank in a huddled heap on the deck. The Toper, 
meantime, stood quietly with folded arms; and while 
Sister St. Mary was being carried off to the sick-bay, 
the Captain gave orders for him to be taken to the 
cells and put in irons. He was led away there and 
then. Barrachon, the Inspector, and the Overseer 
General went below to the lower deck with the pro¬ 
cession of guards and their prisoner. 

The Captain was determined to question the Toper 
at once, for he would be tried the next day by court 
martial, and undoubtedly shot for mutiny and at¬ 
tempted murder of a warder. It was the moment, if 
there ever was one, to make an example. 

When they reached the alley-way in which the cells 
were situated, Sergeant Pascaud declared that there 
was but one cell available, since it would not do to 
put the Toper in the cell from which the Countess had 
escaped. The cavity had not yet been blocked up. 
The only remaining cell was that in which Cheri-Bibi 
had been placed in irons, and in which were found 
the bodies of the murdered warders. Barrachon gave 
orders for the cell door to be opened, and Pascaud 
opened it. 

The guards on a sign from the Captain were pre¬ 
paring to put the Toper in irons, an operation to which 
he offered no resistance, when they started back, utter¬ 
ing an exclamation. They could see something there 
in the darkness; a figure was lying there. A man in 
irons was there. 

r 




TERROR ON BOARD 


95 


The object could be seen only vaguely in the dim 
light, and the guards might have thought that Cheri- 
Bibi had miraculously returned. The Captain, the 
Inspector, and the Overseer General darted forward, 
and lanterns were brought nearer. There was a simul¬ 
taneous cry: de Vilene! 

Yes, the object that lay there was indeed no other 
than Lieutenant de Vilene, the second-in-command on 
board, and his feet and wrists were imprisoned in 
Cheri-Bibi’s irons in place of Cheri-Bibi himself. 
. . . Moreover, the Lieutenant had assumed a dark 
hue and there was not the least sign of life about him. 
. . . A stout gag was bound over his mouth, nose 
and eyes. 

The gag was at once removed, and men carried the 
Lieutenant into the alley-way and made him breathe; 
at least they endeavored to restore his breathing. 
For some moments it looked as if he were a dead 
man. 

At length his breast heaved, and a deep sigh pro¬ 
claimed that life had returned to his motionless body. 

De Vilene gazed around him with a dazed look and 
said: 

“Captain!” 

His life was saved. But it was a narrow escape. 
He confessed as much. 

“Oh, I thought it was all over with me,” he said. 

While they were lavishing attentions on the Lieu¬ 
tenant, to whom they gave a glass of rum brought by 




96 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


one of the guards, Barrachon went back to the cell, 
and the other officers followed him in order to verify 
the miracle once more. 

The cell was still completely closed like a box, and 
it was impossible to conceive by what artifice a man 
could get out and another man get in without passing 
through the door. Barrachon vented his rage on the 
walls, which he struck with his fists without being 
able to solve the mystery. There was but one key of 
the padlock, and it was said to be the only key that 
would unlock Cheri-Bibi’s irons. 

Now CherhBibi had divested himself of the irons 
and fixed the Lieutenant in them, and locked them 
afterwards without using the key. Sergeant Pascaud, 
who was absolutely bewildered and still more cast 
down than the Captain when he learnt of the escape 
of No. 3216, exclaimed: 

“Upon my word, Captain, I’ve only once in my 
life seen anything to be compared with it. It was 
at the end of a performance by some jugglers in a 
cafe in my village. One of the men was shut up in 
a trunk, which was padlocked, bound with ropes, and 
sealed with red sealing wax by persons present. We 
took care to fasten the ropes ourselves in knots which 
we learnt how to tie from sailors. Well, a covering 
was thrown over the trunk, and the jugglers counted 
ten. When the covering was taken off our man was 
free, with nothing to hamper his movements, stand¬ 
ing by the side of the trunk, which was still closed, 





TERROR ON BOARD 


97 


tied firmly, sealed and padlocked. Do you know 
what I think? Cheri-Bibi may have been a conjurer 
at one time. He must know the tricks of all the 
trades, must that particular bird.” 

Meantime the Lieutenant was taken to his cabin, 
where the Captain joined him. He was ravenously 
hungry and thirsty, and food and drink were brought 
in. He was able to speak. And he told a story which 
was somewhat vague but extremely formidable, and 
gave those who were present food for thought regard¬ 
ing the extraordinary power of the diabolical Cheri- 

Bibi. 

The incident happened in the morning immediately 
after the burial service. De Vilene, in common with 
the Captain and everyone else, was astonished that 
Sister St. Mary was not present during the reading 
of the prayers for the dead. Was she ill? He de¬ 
termined to make inquiries, and proceeded to the 
nun’s cabin. He had nearly reached it, and was turn¬ 
ing the corner by the canteen when he was seized from 
behind with incredible swiftness and violence. 

He could not make a movement nor utter a cry. 
A gag was suffocating him, and at least four men— 
de Vilene estimated that his aggressors consisted of 
not less than four men—reduced him to helplessness. 
Tied up as though he were a bundle, and unable to 
grasp what was happening, he did not know where 
they were taking him, nor could he say, even approxi¬ 
mately, where they placed him for the time being. 





98 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


But he knew that they left him for a while to himself; 
and they even took the precaution to loosen slightly 
the gag which covered his nose so that he might not 
suffocate on the spot. Nevertheless, the place could 
not have been far from the cook’s galley for the odor 
of cooking reached him. True, the decks were im¬ 
pregnated with this odor toward lunch time. 

At length men came to fetch him. They carried 
him some distance; then they fastened a rope round 
him, and let him down into space. He wondered, 
for a moment, if his aggressors were not thus lower¬ 
ing him into the sea, intending to drown him quietly 
so that there might be no opportunity for anyone to 
come to his assistance. Soon, however, he reached 
a resting place. He struck against some hard surface. 
Here he was pushed along, then carried, and after¬ 
wards put down again, by persons who did not utter 
a word. More than once he was lifted over some 
obstacle to be let down again a few minutes later, 
and he imagined that he was in the hold. But in 
which hold? In which store-room? He was unable 
to say. 

After several rough impacts—they didn’t spare 
him, but treated him as though he were a bale of goods 
—they laid him on the planks, then on an iron bar, 
and slipped his feet and wrists into the fetters. He 
assumed that his enemies had decided to leave him 
there, in the hold, in irons, to die of hunger. A few 





TERROR ON BOARD 


99 


minutes later his breathing failed him and he lost 
consciousness. 

The story was an appalling one because though it 
furnished no indication as to Cheri-Bibi’s hiding- 
place, it proved first that he was moving about the 
ship at will, and next that he had accomplices who 
were active and free, and whose numbers were un¬ 
known. It was this last consideration which was by 
far the most important, for it raised the question: 
whom could they trust in future? 

The Captain remained alone with the Lieutenant 
and expressed to him the thoughts to which the tragic 
accident gave rise. But de Vilene was no longer con¬ 
cerned with the danger from which he had escaped. 
Like the Captain, he realized, above all, that they 
were surrounded by foes, and that their troubles were, 
perhaps, only beginning. 

Newly embarked on an old vessel whose crew was 
gathered together at the last moment, with men and 
women passengers, clerks, and government officials, 
who for the most part had been sent to Cayenne be¬ 
cause the metropolis had no further use for them, they 
did not know with whom they had to deal, and they 
had no inkling of the real mind of any of them. 

Nevertheless they could trust the sailors and the 
chiefs of the military guard who had stood the test 
elsewhere, but was it not possible that some black 
sheep had crept into the flock unknown to them? It 





100 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


was much to be feared. Indeed it was certain that 
it was so. 

De Vilene had been attacked by several men. He 
could vouch for it. What were those men? Anarchists 
perhaps, or pretended anarchists. ... At all events 
they knew that under cover of the name those men 
were capable of anything and everything. It was 
they, undoubtedly, who had, for so long, helped 
Cheri-Bibi to evade the police, who had backed him 
up in his monstrous crimes, who had sworn to avenge 
him, and who on the very morning of his trial had 
blown up Ferdy’s restaurant. 

What might not be expected from such bandits who 
had declared a deadly war on society? They would 
stick at nothing. Some of them, doubtless, had sailed 
on the same vessel as Cheri-Bibi in order to rescue 
him, and this, too, with the assistance of the authori¬ 
ties who were the first to be duped, and whom these 
men played with at their own sweet will. Well, if 
this were so, it was war; it meant fighting. Barrachon 
and de Vilene were fighting men. They shook each 
other by the hand. 

Cheered and strengthened by this demonstration, 
they stood silent for a while. A few minutes later 
they went on deck. 

Apart from the men on duty and the military 
guards, who maintained an eager watch, the deck was 
deserted. Everyone had returned to his berth. The 
Toper’s action and Sister St. Mary’s wound, followed 




TERROR ON BOARD 


101 


by the amazing discovery of the Lieutenant in Cheri- 
Bibi’s irons—these things were discussed in all the 
cabins with bated breath. 

What was the mystery of the cell? What sort of 
cell was it in which such demoniacal things could 
happen? The ghostly figure of Cheri-Bibi seemed to 
increase to enormous dimensions. And the general 
terror was doubled by the growing feeling that an¬ 
archists were on board who were determined at any 
cost to save the monster. Supposing that they fired 
the ship? Supposing that they blew her up? Who 
could prevent them? When the passengers heard the 
least commotion behind the doors, how eager they 
were to explain it away! When they heard footsteps 
in the alley-way, how intensely they wished them to 
move on! Two nights had passed without sleep. If 
the Captain were wise he would at once return to 
Europe . . . that was certain . . . quickly. . . • 
What a voyage it was! 




CHAPTER V 


THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 

In the early morning of the next day, the Bayard’s 
quarter-deck was swarming with women, and children 
huddled on their mothers’ laps. The women and chil¬ 
dren had taken refuge there. They thought that there 
would be less fear of a surprise than in the lower 
decks and gangways, where they trembled with fear. 
Moreover, a great piece of news formed the subject 
of conversation. It was stated that Sister St. Mary of 
the Angels was working hand in glove with Cheri- 
Bibi. That, of course, beat everything they thought. 

They knew now why and how the nun was wounded. 
She was acting as the convict’s go-between. And it 
was at the moment when she was about to receive a 
letter from the Toper that a bullet struck her in the 
shoulder. If this were true, she richly deserved her 
fate. For, after all, she could not be a real Sister 
of Mercy. She was probably a girl anarchist who had 
assumed the dress of a nun in order to be near Cheri- 
Bibi, and had been entrusted by his friends with the 
work of rescuing him. She had “caught it.” It was 
a case, if ever there was one, in which to say: “Serve 
her right.” 


102 


THE ATTACK ON THE STORE ROOM 103 


Thus matters stood on the quarter-deck when Ma¬ 
dame Pascaud, the wife of Sergeant Pascaud, ap¬ 
peared. She was out of breath, and obviously had 
something important to say, for, try as she might, her 
excitement prevented her from finding utterance. At 
last she quietened down and blurted out what she 
wished to say: 

“Do you know . . . she’s his sister.” 

At first they did not understand her. They asked 
her to repeat her words and to explain her meaning. 
Of whom was she speaking? Of Sister St. Mary of 
the Angels! 

“Well, she is the sister of . . 

“Cheri-Bibi!” 

The amazement was general. And then doubts 
arose. 

“Are you certain?” 

“She told the Captain so herself. She thinks she’s 
going to die. So she told the truth!” 

“Oh, the poor thing!” 

A deep pity was in them; and they did not doubt 
that she was an innocent victim whose sole offense 
was to have such a brother. 

Madame Pascaud, conscious of the importance of 
the moment, entered into details. 

“Of course there’s nothing against her except care¬ 
lessness, as the Captain told her when he freely for¬ 
gave her. She came to minister to convicts because, 
as she said, her patron Saint Vincent de Paul used to 




104 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


minister among convicts. Pascaud heard every word. 
It seems that what happened brought tears to his eyes. 
She applied to be sent to Cayenne because she wanted 
to convert her brother. Convert Cheri-Bibi! She was 
a little over-confident. She wanted him to pray to the 
Almighty to pardon him for his crimes. After that 
she would die happy, she said. The reason why she 
kept secret the fact that she was his sister was because 
she felt convinced that she wouldn’t be allowed to stay 
with him, and that the Government would forbid her 
to go to Cayenne, because they’d believe that she was 
there to help him to escape. Say what you like, she’s 
a good girl who has the proper family instinct. But 
she’s been badly repaid.” 

The gossips pricked up their ears to listen to Ma¬ 
dame Pascaud, and they were about to resume their 
praise of the nun with the secret hope that she might 
protect them from her brother, when there was a 
considerable stir on deck. 

A procession was approaching consisting of the 
principal officers of the ship with the Captain at their 
head. They were formed up round a stretcher carried 
by four sailors, and upon the stretcher lay Cheri- 
Bibi’s sister, whose name, in religion, was Sister St. 
Mary of the Angels. 

Her transparent face was as white as the sheet 
which covered her. She held in her bloodless hands 
a great crucifix which rested upon her breast and 
seemed already to be keeping vigil over the dead. 




THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 105 


Nevertheless Sister St. Mary’s eyes shone with in¬ 
comparable brightness and her lips were moving as 
if in prayer. 

Behind the group, which was on its way to the 
cages, marched a number of sailors and a consider¬ 
able portion of the staff. In a moment the quarter¬ 
deck was cleared. The women hastened to obtain the 
latest news, and they learnt that Sister St. Mary had 
expressed to the Captain the wish to be carried from 
hold to hold before she died, so that she might call 
her brother and summon him to surrender to the 
justice of man to which he belonged, ere he appeared 
before the justice of God. 

The Captain promised that if Cheri-Bibi sur¬ 
rendered when his sister appealed to him, the life of 
the savage Toper should be spared. 

“Well, if that’s all the Captain is relying on to 
induce Cheri-Bibi to give in . . .” said one of the 
women. 

“He is quite right to make the attempt,” replied 
Madame Pascaud. “The sister considers that she 
was responsible for the Toper’s mutiny, and she 
doesn’t want him to be shot to-morrow, you may be 
sure.” 

“No; she would like to go straight to Paradise, 
poor girl, without having anything to reproach her¬ 
self with. She’s a saint.” 

The stretcher was taken down to the lower deck and 
the convicts could see through the bars of their cages 




106 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


the white vision as it passed. When they recognized 
Sister St. Mary of the Angels, they took off their caps, 
and a few of them, who had not entirely lost all sense 
of religion, made the sign of the Cross. 

They reached the lower berth deck and opened 
the hatch leading to the hold into which it was 
supposed that Cheri-Bibi had escaped when he left 
his cell. A great silence fell around the stretcher 
illuminated by the lanterns carried by the sailors, 
and Sister St. Mary of the Angels raised her voice. 
It was an exceptionally powerful voice. She must 
have summoned up her entire strength in this supreme 
effort. 


“Cheri-Bibi!” she cried. “Cheri-Bibi, it’s I, 
your sister, who calls you. Have pity on me, Cheri- 
Bibi, Fm dying. You know how much I loved you 
when you were a little child. Cheri-Bibi, I still love 
you. Heaven will forgive you. In Heaven’s name I 
call upon you to surrender and die with me. Cheri- 


Bibi! 


Cheri-Bibi! 


99 


Her voice died away, and they listened for the least 
sound to ascend from the silence of the hold. But 
there was no movement and no answer in the dark¬ 
ness. 

At the end of a few moments the nun cried: 

“If I die before you, Cheri-Bibi, you know that 
I forgive you.” 

And as there was still no response she motioned to 
them to take her away. The hatches were opened in 




THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 107 


succession—the magazine, the cordage, the cargo, the 
baggage holds—all of them. They visited every part 
of the ship, and the nun’s voice was raised above the 
dark cavities calling her brother, but her brother did 
not answer. And the procession returned to the sick¬ 
bay, and Sister St. Mary went back to bed in the 
operating room. 

She asked that no operation should be performed 
on her because she wanted to die, and then she 
realized that since the doctor maintained that he 
could save her life, it was her duty to allow him to 
have his way. She was destined still to suffer here 
on earth. She submitted to the inevitable. 

Nevertheless it was with the Captain’s support, 
but in spite of the doctor’s warning, that she had 
attempted to appeal to the memories of a brother 
whom she had tenderly loved, but to no purpose. 
She was now in a burning fever, and the extraction 
of the bullet had to be postponed. 

The Captain held her hand and she wept. Above 
the little iron bedstead was hung the placard which 
she took with her wherever she went, and which was 
her only article of personal property. It contained 
these words: 

“For a convent they have the houses of the sick, for a cell 
the room that charity lends them, for a chapel their parish 
church, for a cloister the poor house, for seclusion the duty 
of obedience, for iron bars the fear of God, and for a veil a 
saintly modesty ” 




108 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Although she was forbidden to speak she murmured 
in her tears: 

“He did not answer me, he did not come to me, 
he has forgotten the sound of my voice. It was I 
who gave him the name of Cheri-Bibi when he was 
quite young. It was the name which I chose out of 
my love for him. Alas! What has he made of 
it 9 ” 

Her grief seemed to know no bounds. Her eyes, 
raised to heaven, were bedewed with tears. 

“Oh God, I am the cause of his misfortune. . . . 
Forgive me. . . . Forgive him.” 

A few moments later she said in a still fainter tone: 

“Oh, I did think that when he heard my voice he 
would come. . . 

At that moment a great commotion arose in the 
alley-way. 

“Captain. . . . Captain. . . . It’s Cheri-Bibi! 

. . . It’s Cheri-Bibi!” 

“Oh, I knew he would come,” she cried, and she 
clasped her hands, transfixed. 

The Captain made a dash outside. A terrible 
tragedy was being enacted near the galleys. Cheri- 
Bibi had, indeed, appeared in an alley-way for the 
space of a second, and a sentry fired on him. Of 
course he missed him. With one bound Cheri- 
Bibi took refuge in the mess store-room, and was 
firing on everyone who attempted to come near 




THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 109 


him. The fight had all the appearance of a regular 
siege. 

The sound of firing could be heard from the upper 
deck and from the direction of the galleys. 

The mess store-room, as it was called on' the 
Bayard , was a somewhat roomy pantry, between the 
two galleys, in which the provisions intended for 
the daily consumption of crew, passengers and con¬ 
victs were stored. The main store-room was in the 
fore part below the third deck. The mess store-room 
led into one of the galleys only, but it was the largest 
and used for the convicts, and it contained hardly any¬ 
thing but three immense boilers, which were, in fact, 
receptacles, as deep as vats and large enough to hold 
an entire regiment’s washing, in which the convicts’ 
soup was made. This “bare” galley was managed 
by the Dodger, a journeyman baker who had been 
promoted in an emergency to the rank of cook, while 
the real chief cook lorded it in the officers’ galley. 
The galleys were situated nearly amidships between 
the two funnels. They could be reached almost direct 
from the upper deck by stairways called “ladders,” 
and one could go up to them very quickly by iron 
steps which led from the deck where the Captain and 
his little group were standing. 

When the Captain arrived at the bottom of 
the ladder men shouted to him to get out of the 
way quickly for the ladder faced the outer door 
of the mess store-room. It was wide open, and 




110 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Cheri-Bibi, who was right at the back and could 
not be seen, was shooting straight down into the 
lower deck. 

De Kerrosgouet, revolver in hand, and de Vilene 
stood on the upper side ladders conducting the 
attack which, up to then, presented great difficulties. 

Two military overseers who went too near the 
galley door were shot; one man in the leg and the 
other in the hand. 

Thus Cheri-Bibi was rushing from one room to the 
other according to the necessities of his defense, and 
was ready to fire even before there was time to take 
aim at him, for he did not allow anyone to set foot 
in the hatchway in front of him. 

How did he get there? How was he discovered? 
The story went that it was the Dodger who raised 
the alarm. The Lieutenant was on the point of enter¬ 
ing the mess store-room when he stumbled against 
the Dodger, who was coming out, shouting: 

“Don’t go in! I’ve seen something move under 
the vegetables.” 

By an extraordinary chance the Lieutenant was 
unarmed. He called the two guards who were pass¬ 
ing and they opened the store-room door without 
encountering any resistance; but as soon as the door 
was opened, the ruffian inside fired two revolvers 
simultaneously, and both guards had to make for the 
ladders. 

De Vilene was in time to catch a glimpse of a 




THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 111 


demoniacal figure which sprang from the mess store¬ 
room to the galley. He recognized it. It was Cheri- 
Bibi. 

“Now we’ve got him!” he shouted with delight. 
“Fetch the Captain.” 

As a matter of fact it seemed impossible for Cheri- 
Bibi to escape. The cook’s mates had slipped out of 
the galleys and fled, leaving the field entirely in the 
scoundrel’s possession; but what could he do? The 
guards came hurrying up from all quarters. Doubt¬ 
less a great deal of damage would be caused, but he 
was trapped! ... he was trapped! Passengers and 
even women showed themselves on the companion- 
ways which were not under the enemy’s fire and 
shouted: “Shoot him! . . . Shoot him!” 

Cheri-Bibi, feeling at that moment that the guards 
would risk everything to effect an entrance into one of 
the two rooms, galley or store-room, and thus take him 
between two fires, managed swiftly to close the galley 
door and to get back to the store-room when the Cap¬ 
tain, leading half a dozen men, rushed in. 

He fired. 

Three men fell to the ground, impeding the onrush 
of the others. 

The remarkable thing was that although a hot fire 
was directed against the convict, he did not seem in 
the slightest degree inconvenienced by it. True, they 
were firing at haphazard at a shadow which appeared 
and disappeared with amazing rapidity. 




112 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The Captain ordered de Vilene and de Kerrosgouet 
to remain in their positions, and to guard the ladders 
against any desperate attempt at flight in that 
direction. 

A deafening clamor surged up from every part of 
the ship. The convicts below sang and shouted: 

“Cheerily, Cheri-Bibi! . . . Cheerily!” 

Who blows the blooming lot VP? 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi . . . . Cheri-Bibi. 

And the warders behind the Captain wavered. 

Barrachon determined to bring matters to a climax 
whatever happened. He dashed ahead, exposing 
himself to the enemy’s fire, and he would inevitably 
have been laid low if a form, all white, like a wan 
ghost, had not come between and shielded him. 

Sister St. Mary! . . . 

Yes, it was she who had risen from her bed in spite 
of her weakness, and hurried to meet the shouts and 
the shot. Had she not called Cheri-Bibi? Well, 
he had answered the appeal. But his hand was still 
dealing out death. . . . And blood was being shed 
in streams around him. 

She walked in front of the Captain, but with so 
light a tread that it looked as if her feet under her 
long drapery scarcely touched the deck. . . . She 
was a saint. . . . But she said in her gentle voice, 
which was growing still weaker: 

“Here I am, Cheri-Bibi. . . . Don’t you recognize 






THE ATTACK ON THE STORE-ROOM 113 


me? . . . Here I am. ... If you must kill someone, 
kill me. . . . Kill me, my brother in Jesus 
Christ. . . .” 

But no shot was fired, and as she moved forward, 
followed by the Captain and his men, they all entered 
the store-room. 

Cheri-Bibi was no longer there! 

He had closed the door between the two rooms, 
and was now in the convicts’ galley. 

It was his last resource. 

The men were already trying the door. It was 
here that the quarry would be found. Sister St. Mary 
implored the wretch to give himself up and not to 
make any more victims. 

“You’ve done enough killing,” she cried. 
“Cheri-Bibi, have pity on us. Have pity on me. 
I’ve come to die with you. . . .” 

They had to take her away before they could break 
down the door. There was a whirlwind rush into the 
galley. . . . 

It was empty. 

Smoke was escaping from the three great soup 
boilers, and he, too, ]ike smoke, had escaped. 

Once more the question arose how did he get away? 
The galley did not lead into any room—except the 
store-room from which they had just come. There 
were no scuttles looking on to the sea. Light pene¬ 
trated from the great upper-deck skylights, which were 
riddled with bullets, and it was impossible for a man 





114 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


to force his way through them owing to the iron 
sashes. And, moreover, guards were on the lookout 
for him on deck. 

Where was he? 

Suddenly the Dodger’s voice was heard shouting: 

“This way! . . . This way! . . . There he is! 
. . . There he is!” 

In a twinkling galley and store-room were cleared, 
and everyone followed the Dodger, who ran like one 
possessed along the alley-ways, rushed into a stair¬ 
way, scrambled down, fell his length on the deck, 
and looking up exclaimed to those who were around 
him: 

“I saw him. . . . Oh, I saw him. . . . Look, he 
vanished through there. . . . Sure enough, he’s the 
very devil.” 




CHAPTER VI 


CHERI-BIBI 

The signalman had struck the eight bells of midnight 
when Captain Barrachon returned to his cabin. He 
sat down at his desk, and prepared to resume, at the 
point at which he had left off, the special report of 
the exceptional incidents which had occurred during 
a remarkable voyage. He had come from the sick¬ 
bay, where he had been visiting the guards disabled 
by Cheri-Bibi’s shots, and he had stayed for a space 
by the bedside of Sister St. Mary of the Angels, who 
had become delirious. He was anxious to put in 
writing, in a detailed form, the events of that dis¬ 
astrous day. The weather was fine and the sea quite 
smooth. The Bayard , oppressed by its cargo of 
convicts, continued its course in “peace and quiet¬ 
ness” towards the lies du Salut. After the recent 
storms—the storms of heaven as well as those on 
board ship—this interval of calm was so unexpected 
and so greatly appreciated that the Captain, who was 
already bending over a table to write, raised his 
head with a sigh of relief as though he were coming 
to himself after a bad dream. 

115 


116 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


But he sat stock still, open-mouthed, wide-eyed, for 
he suddenly saw standing before him a gloomy figure 
which was smiling at him. 

“Cheri-Bibi!” 

He sprang to his feet. 

But he at once fell back in his chair. The gloomy 
figure leant over the desk and leveled the muzzle of 
a revolver between his eyes. And it was no longer 
smiling. He felt his pocket. He was unarmed. 
Someone had stolen his weapon from him. Someone 
had foreseen everything. And the figure standing 
between him and the door was smiling once more. 

“Be sensible. . . . Not a word. . . . Fatalitas!” 

Having said which the ominous visitor took a seat 
without being invited and went on: 

“Monsieur, I am an honest man!” 

He was silent after making this declaration as if he 
were weighing deliberately in his mind what he had 
said, so that it seemed after a few moments as if he 
must add: 

“Or, I have been.” 

The statement seemed to plunge him anew into an 
abyss of cogitation from which he emerged to say: 

“Oh, I might have been. . . . Fatalitas!” 

The Captain, observing that his visitor was so self- 
possessed, was infected by this air of placidity. He 
listened and looked at him. He had seen that fright¬ 
ful face before, but he did not recognize it. So far 
he had regarded him with disgust and dismay. Now 




117 


CHERI-BIBI 


he took stock of him with curiosity. He saw before 
him a man with a big square head, wide mouth and 
thick lips, short, squat nose, immense ears, small, 
round, extremely piercing eyes, always on the alert 
underneath the arch of their harsh and bushy eye¬ 
brows; hair closely cropped in accordance with the 
regulations, revealing the exact outline of the skull 
in which Gall or Lavater would easily have discerned 
bumps of amativeness, combativeness, and destruc¬ 
tiveness which might pertain alike to a ragamuffin who 
would defend his mistress to the death, or to a soldier 
who would die for his country. 

Every instinct was expressed in that face. The 
broad, lined forehead showed that Cheri-Bibi was 
capable of great things, but the perpendicular 
wrinkles at the base of the nose denoted the capacity 
for hatred and revenge. Small, round, piercing eyes, 
we know, indicate shrewdness and cunning, and a 
mischievous and sarcastic disposition. Next, the 
wide, squat nose was that of a person of simple 
nature, easily deceived. The jaw was formidable, 
but the mouth with its thick, fleshy lips, slightly 
apart, expressed good nature and candor. And the 
impression as a whole which the vision of this man 
produced was enormously disturbing inasmuch as it 
was impossible to obtain an impression of the face 
as a whole. 

One could not tell what to trust in that face. It 
might be that, at one time, it possessed some har- 




118 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


mony which the barber, by depriving him of his 
natural covering, had got rid of. If Cheri-Bibi had 
had a forked beard and long hair he would have 
resembled a somewhat countrified preacher, and if 
he had worn side whiskers he would have looked like 
a valet in a great household who had murdered his 
master. 

He might once have been handsome. Satan before 
the fall was the most beautiful of the angels. 

And over and above all this he loved a joke and 
to seem to be laughing. When he did laugh he 
looked awful. 

“Fatalitas” he said, “there you have my enemy. 
If you knew what a run of ill-luck I’ve had in my 
life, you’d scarcely credit it. My fellow-prisoners 
complain of their failures. But I, what shall I say 
about mine? By the way, I am considered an anar¬ 
chist. I should like to say positively at the begin¬ 
ning of this talk that I am anything but an anarchist. 
I, Monsieur, find society, such as it is at present, 
extremely well constituted. And I have always had 
the desire to make for myself a humble but honor¬ 
able place in it. The unfortunate part is that I have 
never been able to succeed in doing so. 

“Fatalitas! I have read Kropotkine. His theory 
of society hasn’t a leg to stand on; and as for Karl 
Marx, I must tell you at once that I should regret all 
my life the efforts that I have made to secure for 
myself other people’s property if I were forced to 




119 


CHERI-BIBI 


share that property with persons whom I don’t know. 
... I like to do charitable deeds, of course, but I 
shouldn’t like to be compelled to do them with a knife 
at my throat. . . . The boot should be on the other 
leg! ... I am neither an anarchist nor a socialist. 
. . . You must understand that once for all. And if 
you want to know what I am, well, I myself will tell 
you, Monsieur. I am a capitalist. At any rate, you 
understand, all that I ask is to become one! 

‘The most surprising thing in my career is the 
obstinacy with which the anarchists who defend me 
and the judges who prosecute me are at one in hurting 
my feelings! I am not an anarchist. I will go a 
step further—I am certain that if you knew me better, 
my dear Captain, you would agree with me—I am not 
at all an ill-disposed person. It would never have 
occurred to me, for instance, to write a book, like 
Little Buddha’s, on the ‘Reform of the Magistra- 
ture.’ Judges do their best, and it would not 
be right to forget that they are men like ourselves! 
I grant you that, every now and then, one of them 
goes wrong. It’s a pity, but it can’t be helped, and 
of a certainty it’s not because one glazier murders 
his mother-in-law that we should regard all glaziers 
as rascals. 

“Look here, as we’re talking of judges I will admit 
that I bear them no ill-will for their mistakes, seeing 
that to err is human. And yet, Monsieur, the man 





120 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


who is talking to you like this, and is entered on the 
convicts’ register as No. 3216, is innocent. 

“You seem to be astonished, and I will admit that 
you have good reason to be. But it is God’s truth, 
as my sister says . . 

“Will you have a glass of water?” asked the 
Captain. 

“No, thank you. You’re too kind. Don’t dis¬ 
turb anyone on my account.” 

The Captain bowed in assent. What was the 
object of the peculiar and remarkable farce that was 
being played by these two men? The Captain, in 
so far as Cheri-Bibi was concerned, wondered. “He 
must have some reason for wanting to gain time,” 
he said to himself, “and as he is a criminal of the 
most impudent type, he’s trying to stagger me.” 

As a matter of fact Cheri-Bibi was showing off, 
and the sight of Cheri-Bibi showing off was a 
monstrous one. It was only necessary to hear him 
say: “I am innocent. . . . That’s God’s truth as 
my sister says.” The phrase “as my sister says” 
added to the words “God’s truth” were uttered in 
a tone that seemed to set the whole world at defiance. 
He went on with his explanation: 

“When I say ‘as my sister says’ I don’t want 
you to think that my sister believes in my innocence, 
but that she believes in God. I, Monsieur, I do not 
believe in God. Brought up from infancy in prin¬ 
ciples which enabled me to do without any such 




121 


CHERI-BIBI 


belief, I shall not have the final satisfaction of know¬ 
ing exactly on whom to lay the blame for all my mis¬ 
fortunes. Well, Monsieur, if the Supreme Being, 
as we say at school, existed he would have a devilish 
bad time of it with me, please believe. There is only 
one thing which can explain my case, and which it 
is really worth while to dwell on, only one thing, 
and that thing is a confounded she: I’ve called her 
Fatality. Monsieur, you see before you a victim by 
decree of fate: Fatalitas! I was good, I am bad. I 
was gentle, 1 am violent. I used to love, I now hate. 
Monsieur, I will tell you the story of my first offense, 
and you will at once pity me. As a stroke of bad 
luck, my first offense goes beyond anything that you 
can imagine. And yet it was very ordinary. Here 
it is . . . 

“1 was bom at Dieppe of poor but honest parents. 
My parents were servants in an old and honorable 
family. My father was the gardener, and my mother 
the lodge-keeper. We lived in a small cottage at the 
park gates. I have nothing to hide from you. I 
will mention names. My name is Jean Mascart. 
Our master’s name was Bourrelier, and the Bour- 
reliers belong to an old middle-class family of 
extremely wealthy shipowners who, however, were 
greatly worried by having such a common name. 

“The family consisted of Monsieur and Madame 
Bourrelier, a daughter and a son. The son was 
enjoying himself in Paris. During the summer 




122 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


months they lived on their big estate at Puys, a mile 
at most from Dieppe, on the main road. The 
daughter was called Cecile, but everyone called her 
by the sweet name of Cecily and everyone loved her. 
For that matter, it was impossible to see her and 
not to love her. I was only fifteen at that time and 
she was seventeen, and I was very struck on her. 
Oh, in the most innocent and respectful manner in 
the world, for I was then as good as gold, and I had 
a level mind which enabled me to see things in their 
proper proportion; and the position that Cecily 
occupied was so much above my humble station that 
I did not allow myself to indulge in any ridiculous 
hopes. I loved her, that was all. 

“My only happiness consisted in watching Cecily. 
I never lost an opportunity. I gave up my calling, 
which was, it seems, to be a surveyor, in order to see 
her every day. Yes, my schoolmaster had discovered 
that I had an inclination for geometry. Then my 
father, a simple soul who did not make difficulties 
where there were none, said: 

“ ‘Very well, we’ll make a surveyor of him.’ 

“But I should have had to go to a boarding school 
in Rouen. I should never have agreed to that. 
Leave Cecily! Why, I would rather die. Neverthe¬ 
less I had reached an age when I had to make up my 
mind. Something had to be done. So one day I 
said to my father: 4 Dad, do you know what I should 




CHERI-BIBI 


123 


like to be? I should like to be a butcher. Yes, I 
feel that I have a taste for the slaughter-house!’ 

“I was not talking at random. More than once I 
had stopped outside butchers’ shops with no sort of 
intention of buying anything, but simply to look on 
and to understand. The sight of all that red meat, 
quite fresh, attracted me. I envied one of my young 
friends who was a butcher’s boy and could handle 
it every day. 

“Sometimes he took me to the slaughter-house, 
and it was a joy to see how he cut a calf’s throat with 
a single stroke of his knife called ‘the bleeder.’ I 
felt a shudder, which was not wholly unpleasant, 
when he manipulated this big knife, which was 
double the size of a carver, and when he explained to 
me how to unsinew fhe animal. The knife must not, 
he said, be used with a ‘double movement’; in other 
words, you had to avoid working backwards in the 
cut, as was done by persons who did not understand 
their job. Otherwise the meat would be hacked, 
and it was work that should be neatly done! 

“Afterwards he showed me how to ‘decorate’ the 
skin of the calf’s stomach with a small sharp knife. 
I, who had an inclination for geometry, would have 
liked to draw on the calf’s skin, circles, squares, 
parallelograms, just as he drew hearts, arrows, 
flowers. Let it not be said that the butcher is a 
materialist, for, after all, nothing compels him—does 
it?—to draw flowers on the stomachs of calves. 





124 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“And so I acquired the taste for this very safe and 
respectable business which, in most cases, brings in 
considerable profits. My father did not stand in my 
way, and indeed he was at once satisfied when I told 
him that I was about to become an apprentice to a 
butcher in Le Pollet, a suburb of Dieppe near Puys; 
a butcher who, as it happened, supplied the Bour- 
reliers with their meat. 

“I had thought out the whole scheme. I knew 
that I should have to take the meat to Puys, and I 
was certain to see Cecily every day, because her 
mother had made a good housewife of her, and it was 
she who nearly always interviewed the tradesmen. 
Matters turned out as I expected, and, believe me, I 
did not rob her in any transaction. I always 
managed things in such a way as to supply her with 
the best cuts, and I was not the one to try to palm 
off on her an upper-cut as an under-cut, or a cut 
from the leg as rump steak. Moreover, I took good 
care when I delivered veal, to do the ‘decorations’ 
myself, and I assure you that Monsieur Bouguereau, 
the famous painter, could not have shown off a calf 
more beautifully with his brush than I did with my 
small knife. 

“I am entering into these particulars, Monsieur, 
because I’m very glad to spread myself a little over 
a time which was the most delightful in my life. I 
can see myself now, my spotlessly clean apron tucked 
up carefully above the knee and taken in at the waist, 





12S 


CHERI-BIBI 


my steel at my side, the veal in my basket, hasten¬ 
ing on my bicycle to meet Cecily. I left my machine 
at the door of the cottage in which my parents lived, 
and after kissing my dear mother and my charming 
sister who, in those days, was called Jacqueline, like 
anybody else, I turned my steps with a beating heart 
to the park. If sometimes I stopped out of breath, 
gasping, it was because I had heard Cecily’s fairy 
footsteps gliding over the grassy slope. How beauti¬ 
ful she was! What grace of movement! What 
simplicity of manner! 

“And then she was as fresh as a daisy and as gay 
as a lark on a summer’s day. To see her was all I 
asked. To die for her was all I wanted. And no 
one ever knew the secret of my heart. You see, 
Monsieur, my voice trembles now when I recall those 
exquisite moments. She had a way of asking: 
‘Well, young man, is the meat really spotty 
today?’ Was it really spotty indeed! ... I used 
to blush, and when she observed it, she would smile 
and say: 

“ ‘You are still a little bit of a muff, my poor 
boy.’ 

“And she took the joints from me with her own 
beautiful fragrant hands. 

“And now, Monsieur, this is how the crime was 
committed, and how I was arrested and convicted. 
Believe it if you can. True, I committed the murder, 
but I was not to blame. Even now, after the lapse 




126 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


of so many years, I haven’t got over it. I must tell 
you at once that Cecily’s father, an immensely 
wealthy shipowner, was an old rake. He had been 
taking notice of my sister. Poor Jacqueline, who 
was as pious as a child’s prayer, was certainly the 
most virtuous girl in the district. Mothers held her 
up as an example to their daughters, and the rector 
would have chosen her as the winner of the rose if 
the custom of crowning the best girl in the parish had 
survived, in our country, the destruction of ancient 
customs. 

“I have nothing to keep secret in this doleful 
story, which is known throughout Dieppe, where my 
sister lived again quite recently amid universal 
respect and the devoted friendship of the nuns in the 
hospital, who welcomed her with open arms. 

“How and by what piece of trickery did Jacque¬ 
line fall a victim to the old ruffian Bourrelier? For 
my part, I’ve always believed the youngster’s story. 
She declared that Bourrelier enticed her into his office 
in Dieppe and drugged her one Sunday, after evening 
service, when no one was there. The result was that 
my sister nearly died, and there were terrible scenes 
between my father and Bourrelier, who, of course, got 
rid of us. Even I was sacked by my master, who was 
anxious to keep his customer. But I found a place 
elsewhere, and my sister became a nun. 

“Meanwhile, I continued to see Cecily because I 
delivered meat for my new firm to the Chateau des 




CHERI-BIBI 


127 


Roches-Blanches, in Puys, where the Marquis du 
Touchais and his family, friends of the Bourreliers, 
lived during the season. The Marchioness was a 
very line lady who, when she went out, was invariably 
escorted by old Rose, her lady-companion. I know 
that both of them are still living, for, as you may 
readily believe, although the case was tried fifteen 
years ago, the affair will never be finished with as 
long as my head is on my shoulders. 

“The Marquis had a son, Count Maxime, a young 
man who was gadding about in Paris with Bour- 
relier’s son. Both of them used to return to their 
families in the season, and they often brought a 
friend with them who stayed at Bourrelier’s house. 
This friend was the Viscount Georges de Pont-Marie. 
The sons continued to visit each other in Puys, and 
very close relations existed between the chateau and 
the villa. Cecily often went with her mother to the 
chateau, and, therefore, I was able to behold her as 
the fancy took me. 

“I no longer recognized her. She had a wistful 
expression which was painful for me to see, even if 
I assumed that this air of sadness had its origin in the 
terrible accident which had befallen my sister whom 
she loved so well. The three young men endeavored 
to cheer her up. Her father himself, the rascally 
Bourrelier, did not succeed in rousing her from her 
dejection even when he resorted to threats. 

“One day I heard him bullying her rather 




128 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


* 


severely. I walked away at once for I felt that I 
might not be able to control myself. Moreover, 
I always got out of the way of old Bourrelier, lest 
I should do something rash. And this was the one 
thing, above everything else, which I tried to avoid 
because of my love for his daughter. Now I learnt, 
some time after, the cause of these scenes. Old 
Bourrelier wanted his daughter to become a Countess 
and one day a Marchioness. . . . Yes, in spite of 
her opposition, he wanted her to marry Maxime du 
Touchais. 

“The old Marquis du Touchais, of course, backed 
him up, for he was a poor man, and the Roches- 
Blanches estate, as well as everything that remained 
to the du Touchais’s of their old Norman property, 
was mortgaged up to the hilt and beyond. All their 
schemes for my poor Cecily were nicely faked! I 
felt sick at heart, especially as I knew that the poor 
girl always hoped to marry one of her cousins, 
young Marcel Garacan, who was then making a trial 
trip prior to attaining Captain’s rank in the merchant 
service. 

“I saw Cecily every day for a fortnight, and every 
day she was in tears. It made me quite ill. She told 
her father, moreover, that she would rather die than 
marry Maxime du Touchais; and all the countryside 
was aware of it. The people pitied her, for they 
knew Bourrelier, and were quite sure that he would 
never allow her to have her own way. 




129 


CHERI-BIBI 


“One evening, in mid-September, I was coming 
back from Roches-Blanches, on my bicycle, when I 
caught sight of two men fighting on the top of the 
cliff. They held each other round the body, and 
their struggles were such that I marveled how it 
was that they hadn’t fallen into the sea. 

“I got off my bicycle, for in order to reach them 
I had to run across country, and then I distinctly 
heard one of them shouting in a choking voice: 
‘Help! . . . Help! . . . Murder!’ I recognized 
the voice. It was Bourrelier’s. 

“Notwithstanding that it was nightfall and grow¬ 
ing dark, I was at once able to grasp the position. 
Bourrelier had his back to the sea, and was nearing 
the edge of the cliff; the other man, who had managed 
to release himself, gave him a push while clutching, 
with one hand, a telegraph pole. Consequently, this 
man had his back turned to me, and I could not see 
his face. 

“It was not the moment to hesitate. I rushed 
forward and seized my man, shouting: ‘Let go, 
murderer!’ For answer he gave me a tremendous 
kick on the calf without turning round. I uttered a 
cry of pain, and grasping the knife which was hang¬ 
ing from my belt that evening, I aimed a terrible 
blow at his back. Monsieur, I must tell you that I 
had come from the slaughterhouse, and had on me 
the ‘bleeder’ which I was taking to Le Pollet to be 




130 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


sharpened. You may imagine the sort of blow that 
I dealt him with that knife. 

“Unfortunately, at that very moment old Bour- 
relier, who had succeeded in again seizing his 
opponent by the body, whisked him round in a flash 
towards the edge of the cliff, compelling him to leave 
go his hold of the telegraph pole, with the result . . . 
with the result, listen to this carefully, that it was 
now old Bourrelier whose back was turned to me, 
and my knife went through old Bourrelier’s back as 
if it were butter, my dear Monsieur. 

“He did not give even a groan. He sank to the 
ground at my feet. He was dead. 

“I had killed the man whom I wanted to save. 

“What do you say to that? Don’t you think that 
it was a stroke of ill-luck? And when I declare that 
it was fatality, that fate was against me, am I lying? 
Am I claiming too much? 

“I had killed Cecily’s father. I ran off like a 
madman towards Dieppe, while the other man ran 
off like a madman, too, towards Puys. The 
body lay on the cliff with the knife still plunged in 
its back. 

“Before I reached the top of the hill at Le Pollet, 
I worked out in my mind that if I left the knife in 
his back, people would soon find out that it was I 
who struck the blow. So I wandered back again, 
but I could not find the body. It had already gone! 
Had some passer-by discovered it? Had the alarm 




131 


CHERI-BIBI 


been given? I did not think so, for in that case 
there would have been a crowd of people on the cliff 
and considerable excitement along the coast at Puys. 

“So what was I to do? The other man must 
have returned and, doubtless, thrown the body over 
the rocks. But what had he done with the knife? 
The knife, like the body, had disappeared. It was a 
terrible position for me to be in. 

“At that very moment I noticed that I had lost my 
apron. . . . But where had I lost it? ... I hunted 
high and low for it without finding it. Night had 
fallen. I was clean off my head. 

“Only one hope was left to me: to find the man 
with whom Bourrelier had been fighting. I went 
down to Puys, taking care to keep out of the way, 
drawing back into the fields, or hiding myself behind 
a hedge when I heard the sound of footsteps. 

“I had noticed one thing only about the man: his 
large gray hat, which was rammed over his brow and 
the brim of which was turned down over his eyes. 
Moreover, the ups and downs of the struggle and the 
darkening night prevented me from seeing anything 
more. I might recognize him by his hat and 
perhaps, too, by his build. He was tall and slim of 
figure, and he had shown by running away that he 
was pretty wide awake. 

“I wandered round the chateau, the taverns, the 
villas during the greater part of the night, on the 
watch for the occasional shadows that rose up before 




132 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


me. At length I reached Dieppe, a prey to despair, 
as may easily be understood, but I dared not return to 
the shop nor to my own home. I spent the night 
in the open near the railway. Early next morning 
I turned my steps towards Le Pollet. Outside my 
new employer’s shop a crowd was assembled, and I 
caught a glimpse of a couple of policemen in the 
doorway. I at once took to my heels, and hid myself 
in a cave in the cliff which had once served as hiding- 
place for Georges Cadoudal. 1 He was a grave man 
if you like! Honor to his memory! I stayed there 
all day, convinced that the police were looking for 
me, and, worse luck, it was only too true. 

“In the evening I left the cave, for I was raven¬ 
ously hungry. I managed to steal, from a haber¬ 
dasher’s shop-front in Beville, a piece of Gruyere 
cheese which lay there, wrapped up in a newspaper. 
An accident had made me a murderer, and the cir¬ 
cumstances of my new life made me a thief. It was 
the finishing stroke; and I was under sixteen! 

“It was a nice beginning, but wait a bit, the story 
is not yet over. I am keeping the tit-bit for the end. 

“The newspaper in which the cheese was wrapped 
was a Dieppe paper of that very day. When I 
finished eating, I read it seated under a porch at the 
back of a poor, lonely farm up to which I had crept 
hoping to find something that might stay my 

1 Georges Cadoudal, leader of the Vendeans, executed for con¬ 
spiracy against Napoleon, as First Consul, in 1804.— Translator’s 
Note. 




133 


CHERI-BIBI 


hunger, for the Gruyere cheese had by no means 
satisfied it. A flickering light disclosed the headline 
of an article which I shall remember all my life: 

TERRIBLE REVENGE BY A BOY OF 

FIFTEEN.’ 

Now I knew all about it. It concerned me. There 
was no possible mistake! 

“The story seemed obvious. The evening before, 
M. Bourrelier’s family had vainly waited dinner for 
him. As it was growing late Madame Bourrelier, 
in a state of great anxiety, sent her son Robert to 
make inquiries. He went to Roches-Blanches, where 
he was informed by the astonished Marquis that 
Bourrelier had left the place in good time to return 
home for dinner by way of the cliff. Fearing that 
some accident had happened, the Marquis, his son 
Maxime, their friend Georges de Pont-Marie and 
Bourrelier’s son, set out along the cliff, and there, 
with better luck than I had, they found a butcher- 
hoy’s apron; but there was no Bourrelier. 

“They returned to the spot with lanterns, and 
finally they discovered traces of a struggle on the 
ground and in the grass. Feeling convinced that 
Bourrelier had been thrown over the cliff, they went 
to the village and along the beach, and the tide, as 
it happened, was low and there was no difficulty. It 
was not long before they saw in front of them the 
shipowner’s body. 




134 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“They carried the dead man to his house after the 
Marquis, who went on ahead, had broken the dread¬ 
ful news to the family. You can imagine Cecily and 
her mother’s grief. The young girl was taken ill 
there and then and had to be put to bed. Meanwhile 
they telephoned to Dieppe; and the Commissary of 
Police appeared, accompanied by his secretary. The 
investigation was soon made. ... A stab in the 
back and a butcher-boy’s apron. . . . That very even¬ 
ing my apron was identified by my employer. Besides, 
the Marquis remembered having seen me start olf from 
Roches-Blanches a few minutes after Bourrelier, 
and declared that I had taken the same road. 

“In the eyes of everyone, my connection with the 
matter was as clear as spring water. I had deter¬ 
mined to avenge my sister whom the shipowner had, 
to use the expression of the newspaper, ‘treated 
badly.’ Moreover, I had benefited personally by the 
act of vengeance inasmuch as I had plundered the 
man whom I had murdered. Bourrelier’s pocket- 
book was not found on him, and, it seems, it 
contained several thousand franc notes. I was rich! 

“The thing that astonished me, however, was the 
fact that the knife was nowhere to be found. Oh, 
they knew exactly what it was like! In a special 
edition of the newspaper, which was issued at ten 
o’clock in the morning, the knife was fully described. 
How was it that at ten o’clock in the morning they 
had not found the knife, the ‘bleeder,’ with which 




135 


CHERI-BIBI 


such splendid cuts could be made that there was no 
need to strike a second blow! The newspaper 
explained furthermore that the stab could only have 
been inflicted by someone who was an adept at that 
sort of thing, by a young butcher. 

“Now that very night I myself found the precious 
knife in circumstances which were by no means 
ordinary, I can tell you. 

“I folded up the newspaper, which foretold my 
early arrest, and went back to my cave in a somewhat 
dispirited frame of mind, believing that it was all 
up with me. What, indeed, could I do? What 
could I say to get myself acquitted? Tell the story 
of the man in the gray hat? The judge would shrug 
his shoulders, and no one would believe me. I 
could do nothing and say nothing unless I brought 
the man in the gray hat before the judge. 

“There was no getting away from that. Tne man 
in the gray hat must be found. It struck me that 
his general appearance was not unfamiliar to me, and 
that I had had occasion to meet that particular form 
in Puys during the season. I ought not to despair, 
but to return every evening, every night, to Puys so 
as to spy upon all the shadows that passed in the 
dark. 

“I still had my bicycie with me. I brought it out 
of my cave, and off I went to Puys. When I heard 
the sound of approaching footsteps, or caught sight 
of a light, I retreated into the open country and lay 





136 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


on the ground. Now, that night, I had given up all 
hope of meeting the man for whom I was searching, 
and after stealthily hunting throughout the village, 
I went off to the beach and was about to lie down on 
the sand under the cliff when a figure passed in front 
of me. It was my man! 

“Oh, there was no mistake about it. It was he 
right enough. . . . Please believe that my heart 
throbbed wildly. At first I lay motionless. I was 
watching him. What was he doing on the beach at 
that hour? It was past two o’clock in the morning. 
I saw him make for a small, extremely narrow flight 
of steps, hewn in the solid rock, which led directly 
to the garden of Roches-Blanches, whose heavy and 
lofty outline towered above the sea. 

“I did not want to alarm my man! I did not 
want him to run away as he did the night before, 
and I followed him on all fours. He mounted the 
steps. I stayed below and waited, intending to go 
up in my turn when he reached the top. Every now 
and then he stopped short and gazed around him, 
with ears on the alert for the least noise. I swear 
that I didn’t make a sound. Then he dived into his 
pocket, took out a key, and opened the little door 
which led to the Roches-Blances garden. 

“He closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. The 
moon illuminated the entire scene. But I could only 
see the man from a somewhat restricted angle of the 
beach because there was a set-back in the cliff; and 




137 


CHERI-BIBI 


as he failed to observe anyone on that part of the 
beach, he might well believe that his presence was 
undetected. 

“I clambered up the steps. When I reached the 
top, I pushed the door and slipped into the garden. 
A great calm reigned over the chateau. Everyone 
seemed to be asleep. Not a light gleamed in any of 
the windows. Which way had my man taken? I 
carefully closed the door behind me and bolted it lest 
he should escape me; and I hid myself in a pathway 
close by, ready to jump out upon him, and to call 
for help when he returned, for there was no doubt 
that he would come back that way. I had no idea 
what he came to the house for, but the fact that he 
left the door ajar suggested that, in all likelihood, 
he was relying on getting quietly away by the same 
means. 

“Before he could unbolt the door I should be on 
him! And we should see what would happen. I 
was a match for him. I wasn’t afraid of him. 

“Nearly a quarter of an hour passed. 

“Nothing seemed to have stirred in the house 
when suddenly I heard a hollow cry, like a cry of 
fear and pain, followed by the heavy impact of a 
body falling to the ground. I darted forward. A 
window was open on the ground floor of the chateau. 
A figure hastily revealed itself at the window and 
seemed on the point of jumping out. It was he. It 
was the man in the gray hat. 





138 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“I sprang forward and found myself in a large 
dark room. 

4 ‘At that moment a door opened and someone 
cried: ‘Who’s there? If you move a step you’re 
a dead man!’ 

“The light of a lantern was thrown on me, and 
I saw a short, stout man in night attire who 
threatened me with his revolver. ‘Don’t fire,’ I 
said, ‘I won’t move. There’s a man in the house!’ 

“ ‘I can see that well enough,’ was the reply. 

“And he straightway kicked up the devil’s own 
row and shouted for help. 

“The household came rushing in from all 
quarters; all of them in their night attire. Lights 
were brought, and I was recognized, and they 
exclaimed: ‘It’s Cheri-Bibi!’—I was known through¬ 
out the countryside by the name which my sister had 
given me—‘It’s Cheri-Bibi! We’ve got him!’ 

“ ‘He’s up to more mischief here,’ interposed a 
voice. 

“And suddenly they raised a great outcry, for 
they had just discovered the Marquis du Touchais 
stretched at full length on the floor, in a pool of 
blood, in front of his safe. . . . He was dead with 
a big knife driven in his back. ... I recognized the 
knife. It was mine. 

“Well, Monsieur, what do you think of that, eh? 
Something out of the common in the way of chance! 
Have you ever heard of such a run of bad luck? 





139 


CHERI-BIBI 


If you have, say so. But I know that you’ve never 
heard of anything like it before, have you? Fatalitas. 
I am not, you understand, a disciple of Kropotkine 
or Tolstoy. I am not the product of anarchism or 
dubious reading. Nor am I the victim of evil 
instincts; that’s humbug. The circumvolution of the 
brain, as the Kanaka would say, is, as far as I am 
concerned, humbug also. When you’re born, you 
have all the bumps and none of the bumps ... a 
disposition for everything and nothing. At the 
beginning, take it from me, our instincts and our 
bumps mean nothing to us. They represent energies 
which demand to be utilized. That’s all. . . . 
That’s my theory of life. It’s not a complicated one. 
But, of course, these energies will flow into whatever 
channel they may be directed, that’s a certainty. 
But who manipulates the lever? . . . That’s what 
we want to find out. . . . That’s what we must 
take into consideration. . . . That’s where we must 
fix the responsibility. . . . 

“Sometimes the parents are at fault and some¬ 
times society. It is never the child. . . . The poor 
kid himself is only too willing to go ahead—straight 
or crooked. . . . Well, who pulled the lever in my 
own particular case? It was neither my parents nor 
society. It was Fatality , that was all. The fact hits 
you in the eye. I can see it. I’ve faced it all my 
life. It was Fatality that pointed the way. When, 





140 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


by chance, I did not see the way, it drove me from 
behind. Fatalitas! Oh, the jade! 

“You understand me, I hope. . . . It’s all the 
better if you do. It shows that you have your wits 
about you. . . . 

“So it was my knife that they found! . . . You 
can imagine how they laid hands on me, and how 
they treated me. And how they settled me. . . . 
What was the good of my telling them that I was 
after a man in a gray hat? They disbelieved me 
all the more after they had searched the house from 
top to bottom so as to discover whether I had an 
accomplice, and found no trace of anyone. A couple 
of months later I appeared before the Assize Court, 
and as I was too young to be guillotined, I was sent 
to Cayenne to finish my education. 

“I didn’t care one way or the other once I knew 
that I shouldn’t see Cecily again. What happened 
to her young life? I learnt the facts after my escape 
and return to France. Three days after her father’s 
death, and consequently two days after the Marquis’s 
death, Cecily sent word for Maxime du Touchais to 
come and see her. The young man had lost a great 
deal by Bourrelier’s death; for it seemed as if the 
man who had killed the shipowner had killed the 
marriage. He knew that Cecily would only marry 
him if she were compelled to do so by force. And 
even so, she had given him to understand that she 
would never yield to her father’s entreaties. 

“So you can picture the young Marquis’s amaze- 





141 


CHERI-BIBI 


ment when immediately after Bourrelier’s funeral, 
Cecily, in Bourrelier’s study and under Bourrelier’s 
portrait, gave him her hand saying: ‘Monsieur du 
Touchais, I regard you as my affianced husband. I 
give you my promise. A terrible misfortune has 
afflicted both of us, and in marrying you I am 
fulfilling my father’s last wishes.’ So saying she 
bowed to him and left him in a state bordering on 
stupor. 

“This young ‘nut,’ as we should say in these 
days, could not understand from the beginning how 
a girl who had rejected the wishes of her father when 
he was alive should conform to them when he was 
dead. The idea of sacrifice over her father’s grave, 
which arose in that young girl’s heart, was far 
beyond his limited comprehension, and he could not 
rise to such heights for a moment; and if he had been 
told that old Bourrelier had threatened to curse his 
refractory daughter on the day of his death, it would 
not have sufficed to account for Cecily’s conduct. In 
his eyes, a father’s curse was one of those conven¬ 
tional phrases which have come down to us from a 
somewhat old-fashioned literature, and which have 
now ceased to pass for currency. He accepted his 
happiness, therefore, without understanding it, and 
when the period of mourning was over, Cecily and he 
called in the services of the mayor and the rector, 
not forgetting, of course, the solicitor.” 

“How well you express yourself,” observed the 
Captain, who took care not to interrupt the speaker, 





142 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


but wished to convey to him from time to time that 
he was following him with attention. As a matter of 
fact, while listening to the engrossing story, Barra- 
chon kept wondering: “How shall I set about laying 
hold of Cheri-Bibi without doing too much harm?” 

Cheri-Bibi continued: 

“It so happens that I have often been astonished 
like you, Monsieur, by the good form and lucidity 
which my language reveals at times, hut apart from 
my considerable reading during the hours that I 
wasted at the convict settlement, my only explanation 
is that at those particular moments my thoughts are 
centered wholly in Cecily, and are expressed in 
elevated language because Cecily elevated everyone 
who came in contact with her. 

“Nevertheless we must make an exception in the 
case of the loathsome Maxime du Touchais, who 
encountered perfection on earth and did not perceive 
it. He was too busy looking after the money bags. 
The fortune that he acquired through his marriage 
left him no time to trouble himself about Cecily, whom 
he entirely neglected after she became a mother. He 
built a splendid yacht for himself in which he sails 
in the holiday season with his boon companions of 
both sexes. These extravagant parties and scandal¬ 
ous cruises take place while the young wife mourns 
at home in the chateau.” 

Cheri-Bibi stopped, heaved a deep sigh, and went 
on: 

“At this point, Monsieur, this part of the story 




143 


CHERI-BIBI 


finishes. My first thought on returning to France, 
after my escape from the convict settlement, was 
naturally to see Cecily. I made my way to Dieppe, 
but I was still pursued by incredible misfortune, for 
I no sooner reached St. Valery en Caux than I learnt 
that Cecily, taking advantage of her husband’s 
absence, had gone with her son to England so as to 
improve his knowledge of a language which I cannot 
too strongly recommend young people to learn. If 
I had known English, I should never have been 
caught when I slipped away from the lock-up. But 
I didn’t know the language. Fatalitas! 

“And now, Monsieur, I will make only a slight 
further demand upon your patience, and you will 
know at last why it is that I have thought it my duty 
to inflict upon you this long confession. Fate still 
continued to persecute me. I was anxious to be 
reinstated in an honest and respectable life, for I was 
young still and in no way corrupted by the ‘old 
offenders,’ and moreover the thought of Cecily had 
always obsessed me, and I was, I venture to say, 
filled with eagerness to do good. After performing 
veritable marvels on the outskirts of society in the 
art of good-natured burglary, and of swindles that 
did no harm to anyone—because it’s the law of nature 
that whatever happens one must live—I had the good 
fortune to glimpse a harbor of refuge. At last I 
should live a quiet life. ... I should be honest like 
other people. ... I became a porter in the office of 
a millionaire banker. 





144 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Well, will you believe me, Monsieur, I was fixed 
up with an anarchist. The fellow associated with 
none but anarchists, whom he entertained every day at 
his table. He read only anarchist newspapers which 
he subsidized, and thus considered, apparently that he 
had done his duty by humanity, for he was not over- 
generous with his servants. It was he who gave me 
Kropotkine to read; it was his New Year’s present 
to me. . . . The whole thing disgusted me. Here 
with this pot-bellied person—I mean my employer 
—keeping his millions for himself, and trying to 
convince other people that they had no right to possess 
anything at all. It was sickening, upon my word, 
and I gave him notice to leave. Oh, I didn’t hang 
about very long over it. 

“Now, as if by chance, fatality was on the watch, 
determined that the day after my departure the bank 
should be robbed by a few smart lads who adopted 
the literary theories of my ex-governor and unhesi¬ 
tatingly shot down the unfortunate staff who mounted 
guard over the cash. From the start of the 
investigation the banker spoke of me. I had left too 
opportunely not to be aware of what was going to 
happen. From that assumption to the conclusion that 
I entered his employ solely to give my confederates 
the requisite information was but one step. 

“In order to get over that one step they wanted 
to know exactly who I was. And they might not, 
perhaps, have succeeded but for a man called Costaud. 




145 


CHERI-BIBI 


Who was Costaud? Have you ever read ‘Les 
Miserables?’ . . . Yes, you have read the book. 
Very well, Costaud played the same part as Javert did 
in Victor Hugo’s story. That is the long and the 
short of it. 

“Costaud got to know me in Dieppe at the time 
when I committed what we agree to call my first 
offense. He was the secretary to the Commissary of 
Police. Ever since my escape from penal servitude 
he had been after me. He and Fatality were in 
collusion. 

“One chilly, misty evening in January I met them 
both in an omnibus shelter, and he proceeded to lay 
hands on me, when I remembered in time that I had 
a small pocket knife with me, and I made Costaud 
a present of it. That settled him, and he swooned in 
the arms of his companion. He did not die from his 
wound and I don’t bear him any malice. For all that, 
Costaud, while looking for the office-boy of the looted 
bank, found Cheri-Bibi. 

“They were all agreed from that moment that it 
was Cheri-Bibi who did the trick, and one heard of 
nothing but Cheri-Bibi and his gang. I was obliged 
to run to earth like a rabbit. Now I never committed 
so many crimes as when, like a wise man, I lay in 
my hole and didn’t stir a foot. That infernal Cheri- 
Bibi’s gang were up to their old games again. They 
stole motor-cars, robbed bank messengers, frightened 
the ordinary public out of their wits, and finally 
worked wonders which covered me with glory. At 




146 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


times when the newsboys’ shouts brought me details of 
Cheri-Bibi’s latest crime I longed to come out of my 
retreat and cry: ‘That’ll do. . . . That’ll do. . . . 
You are choking me with cream!’ . . . Monsieur, I 
must bring my story to a close. I will pass over a 
few insignificant details, such as, for instance, my 
arrests and escapes, to come to the young servant girl. 
You remember Marguerite Berger, the girl who was 
cut into I don’t know how many pieces?” 

“Seventeen,” interposed the Captain. 

“Look here, I thought there were only sixteen! 
But after all, perhaps you’re right.” 

“At the sixteenth the effect was so great on you 
that you were obliged to take a mustard foot bath,” 
added Barrachon, becoming more and more self- 
possessed and master of himself, for, taking every¬ 
thing into consideration, he reckoned that it was 
impossible for the wretch to escape him. When 
Cheri-Bibi went to open the door he would hang on 
to him whatever happened and shout to the sentry on 
guard, whose movements to and fro he could hear in 
the passage, to fire even if he himself were the first 
to fall. “And now my man, go ahead!” he thought 
to himself. 

“Oh yes, the mustard foot bath,” returned Cheri- 
Bibi. “You haven’t forgotten it! I suppose you 
thought it was a bad joke. Well, it wasn’t; it was 
the truth. Poor little serving-wench! Poor child! 
It occurred after my last escape. I hadn’t a penny 




147 


CHERI-BIBI 


in the world, and was wandering round the slaughter¬ 
houses at La Villette, feeling very depressed, and 
thinking to myself that if ever I managed to get back 
to respectability again, it would be in the meat trade 
for which I had an inclination, and which was my 
real trade as a respectable man. I had stolen a 
butcher’s smock, and put it on; and I tried to open 
up a conversation with men in the trade who had 
finished their day’s work. One of them passed me 
arm in arm with a young servant girl. He was 
treating her so roughly that I felt compelled to inter¬ 
fere, and ask him to behave himself a little better, 
seeing he had a girl with him, for the honor of the 
trade. 

“I spoke quite politely, not intending any harm. 
He tried to give me a dressing; but he got one instead, 
and the servant girl, fearing for herself, in her turn, 
begged me to see her home. Her name, she told me, 
was Marguerite Berger, and she lived in the Avenue 
de Saint Ouen. It was some distance away, but I 
escorted her there like a gentleman. 

“When we reached her place she asked me, as 
she was still in fear of her lover, not to leave 
her before the morning. But I went off at once, 
considering that I had done enough in the way of 
rescuing beauty in distress, preferring not to prolong 
my stay, in the circumstances, in a neighborhood 
the geography of which I had had no opportunity of 
studying. 

“The next morning Marguerite Berger was found 




148 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


in her room cut into pieces. Well, I had nothing to 
do with it. When I left her the night before she 
was in one piece! Her lover, the butcher, had 
undoubtedly done the deed after a violent outburst 
of jealousy. Of course Costaud arrived on the scene, 
and on observing the pieces, exclaimed: ‘That . . . 
that’s Cheri-Bibi’s handiwork.’ 

“The door-keeper who saw me go upstairs to the 
girl’s room the day before gave a description of me. 
The thing was at once settled! I always learnt of 
my murders from the newspapers. The same thing 
happened on this occasion, and I nearly had an attack 
of apoplexy. And that’s why I took a mustard foot¬ 
bath. There’s no witchcraft about it. It was then, 
Monsieur, that, disgusted with life, and thinking that 
it was impossible for me to do any good in this world, 
I put myself in Costaud’s way. He arrested me and 
received the Legion of Honor. 

“In the meantime the anarchists considered that I 

< 

was a champion, for they found that I had taken away 
the body of an old marchioness and robbed her of her 
jewelry in order to buy food for a large family who 
were starving; they believed no end of things to my 
honor, I can tell you. For my part, I didn’t mind. 
I no longer denied anything, for I saw that such an 
attitude gratified the judge. I asked him if he wanted 
any more. He could have as much as he liked! I 
only required one thing: a quick finish. Well, you 
see, there again I had no luck. The jury were in a 
funk, and found that I was partly irresponsible on the 




149 


CHERI-BIBI 


grounds of insanity, and instead of sending me to the 
guillotine, a room was provided for me at the convict 
settlement. I was to go back to Cayenne. It was 
this decision which rendered me desperate. 

“I’ve sworn that I will never set foot in Cayenne 
again. Do you understand me, Captain? If you 
refuse to understand me, there is sure to be a row. My 
sister who joined the ship to try to influence me, my 
sister herself can’t prevent it. You can take that from 
me ... I may have been a little long-winded in my 
story, but I think I have shown you that I am a good 
man, a good man down on his luck. I have it in me 
to become a tiger; not a tiger in a menagerie, but a 
regular tiger who will destroy the lot of you. 

“There are over eight hundred men here, who will 
blindly let themselves be guided by me. You haven’t 
half that number. Your men would hardly be 
a mouthful for us. We are armed. We have weapons. 
So, be assured, they are only waiting for me to give 
them the signal to begin the fight. It would have 
been given before but that I caught sight of my 
sister’s cornette. That sight inspired me with a kindly 
thought. Once more I felt a sort of pity for my 
fellow-men, and this is what I’ve come to you 
to propose: Monsieur, society was wrong to close its 
doors against me. Society would be incomplete with¬ 
out me.” Cheri-Bibi gave vent to a tremendous 
sneer. “But I have my self-respect, and it’s I, now, 
who don’t want to have anything more to do with 
society.” He was speaking seriously. “You may. 




150 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


therefore, be easy in your mind. I promise you, on 
my conscience, not to return and make myself a 
nuisance to my fellow-countrymen. 

“What do I want? We are not far from Africa. 
A sharp turn of the wheel and the trick’s done. Lower 
a boat, and there I am landed in a new country. It 
will be said once again that Cheri-Bibi got clear away, 
and no one will think any the worse of you for that. 
And I, Monsieur, I can start life afresh among the 
savages. Does the plan appeal to you? What will 
it cost you? A little salt beef, some biscuits, a cask 
of brandy—I must be able to sustain my strength 
when I take to the bush—and a cask of water. If it’s 
a bargain, say so. You’ll have nothing more to fear 
from Cheri-Bibi. Neither you nor any one else. 

“With Cheri-Bibi away, everything will settle 
down quietly here, because the prisoners can do 
nothing without me. If you refuse to accept my offer, 
look out for yourself! I am not a bad sort of man, 
but I have already proved to you, in the store-room, 
that when I am attacked I know how to defend 
myself.” 

There was a pause. 

The Captain was silent and seemed to be reflecting 
deep down within himself. Cheri-Bibi began to lose 
patience. 

“Well, you’d better say something. Is it to be yes 
or no?” 

“No,” replied the Captain. 

“ Fatalitas!” 





CHAPTER VII 


THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 

The two men were on their feet with the table 
between them. For some little time, the Captain 
had not heard the sentry’s step in the passage, and 
he felt a certain anxiety. How was it that the sentry 
had allowed the ruffian to pass? By what piece of 
strategy had he succeeded in reaching the cabin? 
By what means did he hope to escape? Cheri-Bibi 
was nearing the door by imperceptible movements, 
his revolver leveled at Barrachon. He was on the 
point of reaching the door when Barrachon suddenly 
leapt aside. Cheri-Bibi thrust the revolver between 
his eyes. 

“If you stir before I’ve opened the door,” he said, 
“I’ll shoot you as I would a dog.” 

Then the Captain grasped the significance of Cheri- 
Bibi’s coolness during his story. He had the key 
of the cabin in his pocket. The Captain did not move 
a muscle until the door was opened slightly, for 
imprisoned with the convict and unarmed as he was, 
he had not the slightest chance of getting the better 
of him. Cheri-Bibi cast a glance outside. Then it 

151 


152 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


was that Barrachon resolved to act. Suddenly stoop¬ 
ing he rushed at him, shouting for help. 

Cheri-Bibi in a flash seized him by the throat and 
held him under him while he gasped for breath. 

“I won’t kill you,” he said, “because I’ve no 
liking for useless crimes. But if you get out of this 
business alive, I swear that I myself will land you 
on the coast, as naked as a savage, as a punishment 
for refusing my last request.” 

He hurriedly left the cabin and the door closed 
behind him. 

The Captain picked himself up and flung himself 
at the door, but Cheri-Bibi had turned the key. 
Barrachon was a prisoner on board his own ship. 
He shouted and yelled and stamped his feet so as to 
attract attention in the ward-room, which, as it 
happened, was just underneath his cabin. And at 
that very moment the Bayard was filled with an 
indescribable tumult, amidst which the sound of 
firing could be heard from all sides. 

A number of men rushed up in answer to the 
Captain’s calls for help. De Vilen e himself opened 
the door, the key of which was in the lock. 

“The convicts are in revolt,” exclaimed the 
Lieutenant. 

“Cheri-Bibi has just left me,” returned the 
Captain, who was foaming with rage. 

They wasted no time in explanations. Over their 
heads and under their feet the noise of continuous 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 153 


firing could be heard. The fight seemed to be taking 
place without any definite plan. By the officers’ 
orders the sailors whose watch it was, and the 
military overseers who were on guard, were hurriedly 
warning their comrades, who got out of their beds 
in dismay. Every man in the ship on foot and armed 
was the order. As they passed near a companion- 
way they heard young de Kerrosgouet shouting 
commands from the deck near the entrance to the 
cages. 

At the companion-way leading to the upper deck, 
they came up against a crowd of persons shouting 
and gesticulating and apparently in a state of mad 
excitement. They were held up by some obstacle 
the nature of which they could not at first distinguish. 
At length they perceived that the companion-way had 
been taken away. Yes, the iron ladder was no longer 
in its place. It had been removed. And through¬ 
out the length of the alley-way the same thing had 
happened to the other ladders; with the result that 
all the men hurrying up from the lower decks were 
struggling there, while near the cages the fusillade 
continued to the accompaniment of howls and shrieks. 

The overseers’ wives hastened up also, crying out 
as though they were being flayed alive. In the 
presence of this inconceivable confusion the Captain 
resumed his usual self-possession and ordered the 
men to go into the store-room and look for a 
few boxes with which to make a temporary stairway. 




154 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Some sailors and a dozen convict guards by stand¬ 
ing on the shoulders of their comrades had already 
managed to gain the upper deck. But valuable time 
had been lost. What exactly was happening up 
there? 

The Captain leapt on deck and joined de Kerros- 
gouet, who, with the assistance of a few sailors, was 
dragging the 37 mm. Hotchkiss gun to the hatch¬ 
way which ran down to the cages. Fortunately the 
naval constructors whose business it was to transform 
the old cruiser, as they called her, into a transport 
for Guiana, had permanently closed every other 
entrance in order to render the supervision of the 
convicts less difficult. They would find themselves, 
as it were, bottled up. The hatchway was already 
surrounded by a cordon of military overseers who 
kept up a continuous fire, at random, into this dark 
cavity from which also a mortal fire was issuing. 

It was a fine night, with a touch of tropical 
splendor in it, and the moon threw sufficient light 
over the scene of carnage to enable the Captain, as 
he drew near, to perceive a number of bodies lying on 
the deck. As soon as the first alarm was given, the 
Sub-Lieutenant gathered together the men under his 
command and attempted, at all costs, to go down to 
the cages. His efforts were fruitless. His men were 
obliged to fall back, and de Kerrosgouet himself 
received a shot in the forehead from which the blood 
streamed over his face. He informed the Captain 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 155 


that here, likewise, the ladder was no longer in 
position. How and from whom had the convicts 
obtained their arms? The fire which came from 
them was. most deadly. Not one of the thirty con¬ 
vict guards whose duty it was that night to keep 
watch over the cages had been seen. 

The unfortunate men, it was certain, had been 
massacred, and it was equally certain that it was 
with their rifles and revolvers that the convicts had 
so vigorously returned the fire which was being 
directed against them from the hatchway. 

At this juncture de Vilene rushed up to the Captain 
with an appalling piece of news. The men who were 
not on guard and were wakened in haste, had made 
a dash for their arms, but they discovered that the 
rifles were no longer in the arms-rack. They were 
bound to conclude, therefore, that these rifles had 
passed into the possession of the convicts owing to 
treachery which they did not suspect, and which 
constituted a fresh danger, the more to be dreaded 
inasmuch as it was unknown. The Captain turned 
pale. 

The ruffians, who were now well armed, and 
doubtless possessed no lack of munitions, had a 
considerable advantage in point of numbers. They 
were obviously determined to stick at nothing, for 
they had nothing to lose, and the life that awaited 
them in the penal settlement had no attraction for 
them. The game would be lost to the officers and 




WOLVES OF THE SEA 


I* " 

156 


crew if they did not succeed in massacring the con¬ 
victs to the last man, by turning the cages into a 
bleeding mass. From this infernal pit, riddled with 
shot just as the crater of a volcano is riddled with 
shafts of light, thick wreaths of smoke from the firing 
ascended, and at the same time the outlaws’ Song of 
Death floated up: 

Who blows the blooming lot U P? 

Sing ho for Cheri-Bibi. 

Fortunately for Barrachon he had at his disposal 
two Hotchkiss guns, one of 37 mm. and the other of 
47 min., with which he would be able to shoot down 
the rabble. 

It was a stroke of luck that at the last moment he 
had requested the authorities to supply him with 
this additional means of defense. In ordinary cir¬ 
cumstances they would have laughed in his face. But 
they knew that Cheri-Bibi was on board, and they 
regarded the precaution as a legitimate one. The 
two small guns were shipped at the eleventh hour, 
and were hoisted on the Bayard at night. The 
Captain ordered them to be stowed temporarily in 
the flag-locker until he was ready to fix them in their 
regular places. Then he overlooked them, which in 
itself was another piece of luck, for if the mysterious 
confederates had known that those powerful weapons 
were on board, they would have been in the convicts’ 
hands, in all probability, at that moment. 





THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 157 


After his first failure, it occurred to young 
Kerrosgouet, who knew where the guns were, that 
in the terrible position which had arisen he should 
use them. The sailors were already placing the 
second gun by the side of the first when Barrachon, 
who had an eye for the future, stopped the men in 
their work. 

One gun was all that was needed at the hatchway 
if they were to be the victors. In view of certain 
eventualities which they must provide for, such as a 
rush of convicts in other parts of the ship, or on the 
deck itself, it would be well to hold back one of those 
formidable weapons. Thus he had the 47 mm. Hotch¬ 
kiss hoisted on to the bridge, on the very roof of the 
chart-room. From that position he could dominate the 
ship’s upper works and sweep them from end to end. 

Meanwhile at the gaping mouth leading to the 
cages, firing continued on both sides. De Vilene 
and de Kerrosgouet had set up their Hotchkiss on 
an improvised platform whence they could shoot 
down into this infernal hole. As soon as this hole 
was cleared they would jump down into it; and there 
would be a pitiless slaughter. Reassured for the 
time being, Barrachon went below to the lower decks. 
He ordered the women and children to be locked in 
their quarters; and the women wept and cried out in 
terror for their husbands. 

Accompanied by a squad of military overseers he 
went still further below. 




158 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


His chief fear was lest he should be attacked from 
the rear. He had to remember that Cheri-Bibi had 
escaped from the lower deck through a cavity in the 
cell, the old ammunition magazine, and some open¬ 
ing which still remained to be discovered. Cheri- 
Bibi must have returned by the same way, and his 
assumption was at once confirmed when he came 
upon two convict guards writhing in their death 
agony. The way which was afterwards taken by 
the ruffian was a mystery, impossible to divine. 
Barrachon came across bulkheads which were unin¬ 
jured. He had some fifty men under his command, 
spread around the old ammunition magazine, into 
which seemingly no one could enter, except by way 
of the cages, owing to the alterations effected by the 
naval constructors. 

His rear and his passage below having been 
secured, he made his way to the upper deck. 

The Captain was filled with a new hope. The 
revolt was localized, and the convicts were surrounded 
and besieged. Though they might not succeed in 
penetrating into the very center of the rebellion, 
they would end by stifling it. It would die a natural 
death for lack of munitions and food. The ruffians 
would be vanquished by hunger and thirst. Never¬ 
theless there was an increasing tumult. Wherever he 
went, however far he might venture in the hidden 
recesses of the ship, convicts could be heard around 
him singing their terrible song. And those fateful 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 159 


syllables which might have sounded so pleasant, 
reached his ears like a violent and perpetual menace: 
“Cheri-Bibi . . . Cheri-Bibi.” 

What was the secret of this power of crime over 
crime? . . . How all those wretched beings sub¬ 
mitted to the scoundrel who maintained that he was 
the victim of Fate! And how he lured them on to 
follow him to the death, for they were marching 
towards death! What slaughter there would be! 
What bloodshed! Streams of blood were about to 
flow from deck to deck, from gangway to gangway, 
from bilge to bilge to the main bilge, which the 
Captain saw would not be emptied, but would one day 
pour out through the pumps naught but blood. 

Shots behind the bulkheads, cries of fury and of 
men in their death throes, singing by those dregs of 
humanity. Yes, the rebellion had broken out at the 
call of Cheri-Bibi. But how was it that it had taken 
place? Once more the question arose, how had the 
convicts obtained arms? How had they escaped 
from their cages, with a double guard watching them 
unceasingly? Those were mysteries which the Cap¬ 
tain, whose heart was filled with a desperate anger, 
was unable to fathom. 

And this is what had occurred: That night after 
eating their dinner from the tubs suspended on the 
chain, Little Buddha asked Carrots to search care¬ 
fully in his kit-bag. To the no small astonishment 
of the men, he revealed to view half a dozen revolvers 




160 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


fully loaded which “asked only to be allowed to go 
off.” 

“Fine shooters!” exclaimed the convict in a stifled 
voice, while his comrades around him nudged each 
other and could scarcely restrain their joy. So it was 
planned for that night! During the last forty-eight 
hours they were gasping for the moment to come. 
And now they could scarcely bring themselves to be¬ 
lieve in it. And yet it was high time if they meant 
to save the Toper from execution in the morning for 
attempting to strangle a warder. 

The revolt, then, was a reality. With the Toper 
out of the way and Cheri-Bibi out of sight, they had 
no longer believed in it. Little Buddha alone, who 
was in the Toper’s confidence, had maintained a 
slightly mysterious air which puzzled and reassured 
them. 

And now by some inconceivable miracle they were 
in possession of revolvers, of weapons that would set 
them free. Without a doubt it would put renewed 
heart into them. The moment had come to turn in, 
and there was a great commotion as they unrolled 
their hammocks and hung them up for the night. 

Little Buddha made the most of the uproar to ex¬ 
plain to the others who were expecting the watch¬ 
word what was about to happen. 

To begin with, nothing was to be done until Cheri- 
Bibi gave the signal for a general uprising; and this 
signal was to be a shrill whistle which would come 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 161 


from the lower deck during the night, but at what 
hour exactly he was unable to say. They had to hide 
their time. Little Buddha thought he could vouch 
for the fact that arms had been introduced into three 
other cages. In any case they were agreed to strike 
together. They would go ahead in unison. They 
had sworn it. Only they must not “have a funk” 
because blood would be shed. 

The other cages would not enter the struggle when 
they heard the whistle, which was a signal intended 
only for Little Buddha, but would wait for a revolver 
shot from Little Buddha. But he would not fire until 
the cage was opened. 

The Kanaka answered that the cages were never 
opened at night time, whereupon Little Buddha 
divulged the entire plot in order to inspire confidence. 
One of his pals would “give him the hold”; in other 
words, while he pretended to be asleep, this man 
would unhook his hammock as if he were playing a 
practical joke on him; and he would fall violently to 
the deck uttering cries and moans. He would not 
rise, but pretend that he had broken a limb. Thus the 
guards would be bound to come to his assistance. As 
soon as the door opened, before the guards knew what 
was going on they would kill them. And one hundred 
and fifty pals would hurl themselves into the alley- 
way. 

In each alley-way and deck were ten guards, and 
it would not take long to tackle them and do for them. 





162 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Afterwards to take the keys from them and open the 
cages and cells would be simplicity itself. They 
would release the Toper, the African and all their 
mates. They would constitute an army. And Cheri- 
Bibi would be with them! He would appear from 
they knew not where like a good omen, and bring with 
him rifles and munitions and anything else that might 
be needed to complete the feast. Everything had been 
thought out from the beginning of the voyage, and 
success was a certainty. As for the military overseers 
who would make for the upper deck, there was noth¬ 
ing to fear from them for the companion-way at the 
main hatch had been loosened. To take it down 
would be Little Buddha’s job. Nothing had been 
overlooked. They would be masters of the ship and 
do just as they pleased. Only, he repeated, they must 
understand that those who backed out of it would be 
killed. Every man’s skin was at stake, and it would 
be a battle for life or death. 

The plot seemed splendid to some, problematical 
to others, and impossible to others again, who, how¬ 
ever, kept their opinions to themselves; but they all 
agreed that they had to go ahead for all they were 
worth; even the Lamb was in it. 

Convicts have a method of communicating among 
themselves, of talking, of arranging the minute details 
of a plan of escape, under the very eyes of the guards, 
who do not know how it is done. No sooner were 
the hammocks slung up in the cages and the men 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 163 


lying in their swinging beds, than the whole plot was 
understood and settled. Each man knew what part 
he had to play in it. 

And yet the “turning in” that night was like the 
“turning in” on any other night, and the same sound 
of men snoring, the same hoarse gurgling from brutish 
throats arose between decks, while the warders on 
guard, revolver in hand, or rifle on shoulder, paced 
up and down before the cages. 

Ten o’clock, eleven o’clock, midnight. . . . Noth¬ 
ing as yet had occurred. The men, growing a little 
impatient, turned over in their hammocks, straining 
their ears for the least sound, counting the bells as 
they were struck, during the watch, by the signalman 
on the upper deck. They had endured too many 
hours of sleeplessness in the past not to know exactly 
the meaning of the bells as they were struck. At one 
o’clock, five o’clock and nine o’clock the signalman 
struck twice; at half-past one, half-past five, and half- 
past nine he struck twice, followed by one slightly 
softer note; at two o’clock, six o’clock, and ten o’clock 
he struck two double bells; at half-past two, half-past 
six, and half-past ten he struck double bells twice and 
a half bell, or four sharp notes and a softer one; at 
three o’clock, seven o’clock, and twelve o’clock he 
struck three double notes; and at the half-hours a 
small note extra. Finally, at four o’clock, eight o’clock, 
and twelve o’clock he struck four double notes with a 
half note extra to denote the half-hours. 




164 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The eight and a half bells of half-past twelve had 
struck when a shrill whistle rang through the lower 
decks. It came from the hold, and the guards won¬ 
dered what the meaning of it was. They put the ques¬ 
tion from deck to deck, and some of them in order 
to find out leant over the companion-ways. Then at 
the back of the alley-way in which the cells were 
situated, some one shouted that the Toper or the Afri¬ 
can must have whistled, for both of them were locked 
in the same cell, the other cells being occupied or not 
sufficiently secure. Nothing further was heard, and 
quietness was soon restored among the guards, who 
resumed once more their accustomed beat. 

Suddenly there was a crash in Cheri-Bibi’s old cell. 
It was Little Buddha, who had been “given the hold” 
and was rolling on the deck near the bars, cursing 
and moaning in a most pitiful manner. 

The guard who was nearest the cage went up to the 
bars and ordered the convict to hold his noise unless 
he wanted to be sent to the cells in the morning. . . . 
Little Buddha groaned still louder. 

“I’ve broken my leg, I’m certain. . . . I’ve broken 
my leg.” 

“Well, it will be set to rights to-morrow,” growled 
the guard. “Stop your row, or I’ll blow your brains 
out. . . . Shut your jaw, damn it!” 

And as though the threat had frightened him, Little 
Buddha, crouching in the dusk of the cage, became 
silent. The men in their hammocks and in the ad' 





THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 165 


joining cages wondered what he was waiting for. 
Soon they were reassured, for Little Buddha again 
set up his moaning. He was suffering more than he 
could bear, and wanted to go to the sick-bay at once. 
His leg was broken. He would kill the man who had 
played him such a dirty trick, he declared. Finally 
nothing could be heard but his clamor. There was 
a general protest. It was impossible to sleep in such 
a din. And the convicts advised the warders, in surly 
tones, to take the “flabby legged” person to the sick¬ 
bay. It was the hour for having a snooze, what! 

The warders once more ordered him in threatening 
language to be quiet. 

“I can’t bear it ... I can’t bear it. My poor leg. 
. . . Let me go to the sick-bay. . . . Besides, my 
head’s broken. I don’t know what’s the matter with 
me. I’m covered with blood. I’m done for, I know 
I am.” 

The guards went up to the bars to which he had 
dragged himself, and threw the light of a lantern over 
his face. It was bleeding. To hasten the climax 
Little Buddha had cut his forehead with a knife. 

It was then that Pascaud, who was going his rounds, 
stopped and decided what was to be done. 

“He is bleeding. He says he’s broken a leg. Look 
sharp, and take him to the sick-bay.” 

“Yes . . . yes . . . take him away,” snarled the 
other men, who seemed to have exhausted their pa¬ 
tience. 




166 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The sound of Pascaud fumbling with his keys could 
be heard. He was looking for the one which opened 
the cage. A great silence fell; the decisive struggle 
was at hand. The success of the revolt depended upon 
the next moment. 

Little Buddha, with one hand in his trousers pocket, 
clutched his revolver. 

The men above in their hammocks held themselves 
in readiness to jump out; but their seeming sleepiness 
deceived Pascaud, who little suspected what was about 
to happen to him. 

He opened the door, followed by a guard who stood 
at the entrance and unconsciously helped the plotters 
by preventing the door from closing with a slam. As 
a further precaution one of the convicts stretched out 
his leg, above his hammock, to keep the grille open. 

Pascaud bent over Little Buddha. 

6 ‘Come, what’s the matter with you? Let’s have a 
look.” 

At that moment Little Buddha, rising to his feet, 
fired his revolver point blank at him. At once pande¬ 
monium reigned, more shots were fired, the convicts 
leapt on to the deck, and made a rush at the guards. 

Pascaud sank to the floor, killed, it seemed, on the 
spot. His fellow-guard on the doorstep had not time 
to move a limb, for a bullet struck him down almost 
at the same time, and he fell head foremost into the 
alley-way. 

In the other cages the convicts armed with revolvers 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 167 


fired on the guards through the bars, and a general 
fusillade blazed out from the three cages. 

Terror stricken, unable to understand what was 
happening to them, nor, in particular, how the con¬ 
victs had secured revolvers, the guards fired into the 
cages as they fled like madmen, throwing themselves 
flat on the deck and shouting for help. 

On the upper gun deck the plot which Little Buddha 
had revealed to the convicts was carried out in every 
particular. His cage, near the ship’s prow, was quick¬ 
ly cleared, and its hundred and fifty convicts, after 
breaking down the companion-way at the main hatch¬ 
way, threw themselves upon the guards and over¬ 
whelmed them by weight of numbers. 

Some fifteen of these hapless men lay on the deck 
mortally wounded, while the other half at length 
darted from the upper gun deck to the lower gun deck, 
and thence to the lower deck, where the cells stood, 
and here they defended themselves with the courage 
of despair; but at that moment they were caught be¬ 
tween two fires. And a frightful cry of victory sig¬ 
nalized their destruction: “Cheri-Bibi! The Countess!” 
No one knew whence they came, but they both plunged 
into the fray like fiends. The awful woman was as 
dreadful a sight as Cheri-Bibi himself under the rays 
of the lanterns which cast a sinister light upon the 
appalling carnage. 

Now the few survivors begged for mercy. 

Cheri-Bibi stopped the slaughter. 




168 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“We must have hostages. Stop fighting,” he com¬ 
manded his men on the lower gun deck. And in a 
voice which drowned all other cries: 

“Let these men be dragged into one of the cages 
and locked in!” 

The cages were opened with the keys which were 
taken from Pascaud and the guards, and the convicts 
swarmed into the alley-way in a regular crush. They 
were seeking their prey. Half of them whom Cheri- 
Bibi drove from behind had to mount to the upper 
gun deck, where the struggle with the men under de 
Kerrosgouet’s command had become more desperate 
than ever. 

The Toper himself, standing behind Cheri-Bibi, 
saw that the dead and dying, both overseers and con¬ 
victs, and the few guards whose lives had been spared, 
were dragged to the “financiers’ cage.” And in a 
trice they were crammed into it helter-skelter and the 
door locked on them. 

Suddenly a voice cried: “Shooters!” And, in¬ 
deed, rifles were being distributed to the men who 
were on their way to the upper gun deck; next sup¬ 
plies of cartridges were passed from hand to hand. 
And the men who had no arms hurried to the place 
where they were being given out. The distribution 
was taking place in the Countess’s late cell. 

Unseen hands were passing up arms and munitions 
through the gap by which the Kanaka’s wife had 
escaped, and men were eagerly laying hold of them. 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 169 


The guards whose duty it was to watch this darksome 
corner of the ship, this part of the hold in which the 
first battle against the shadowy figure of Cheri-Bibi 
had been fought at random, had made for the ladder 
when they heard the report of firing in the cages, and 
were massacred with most of their comrades in sight 
of the cells. 

The distribution was effected at this spot because 
there was no fighting and no danger. When it was 
completed, two hands were outstretched from the 
cavity, and a voice begged some one to pull him 
through to the deck. Then an odd pale little figure 
appeared with the ingenuous look and the smiling 
face of a hoy who had succeeded in playing a smart 
trick. On his head was the white cap of a cook’s mate, 
and the body which followed showed the poor, trem¬ 
bling, timid body of the Dodger. The convicts grasped 
the meaning of many things when they saw this little 
scamp among them. They shouted “Hurrah!” while 
the journeyman baker ran up to the deck yelling: 

“Cheri-Bibi . . . Cheri-Bibi for ever!” 

The fight round the hatchway now simmered down. 
The men on deck ceased their fire, and in the thick 
smoke of battle could no longer sight the besiegers 
at the infernal opening. 

The convicts wondered what new plan was in prep¬ 
aration on deck. Obviously it was one that boded 
them no good. 

Cheri-Bibi satisfied himself that the convicts were 




170 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


ready to follow him now that they were well armed. 
He explained in a few peremptory words that the 
moment had come to conquer or die. They must dash 
like a whirlwind on deck, and make short work of the 
warders. . . . No quarter in this fight. . . . Noth¬ 
ing could resist them, and if they had any stomach 
for the fight the Bayard would be theirs. 

While he was speaking in this strain, the ladder 
was put up in its old place. Then he led them for¬ 
ward. The Countess, intoxicated with the fight, rushed 
headlong behind him, and then came the Toper, the 
African, Little Buddha and the rest. The Dodger 
joined them at the moment when Cheri-Bibi shouted 
"Up, rebels!” 

The great mass of men holding their rifles above 
their heads bundled themselves into the hatchway. 
To clamber up the ladder was the work of a moment, 
but at that very moment a terrible whizzing noise, an 
amazing quick succession of shots re-echoed, and 
howls of fury and pain went up from the convicts, 
who for the most part fell and rolled to the feet of 
their comrades. 

It was the Hotchkiss gun which had entered the 
struggle. Its small shrapnel, its gleaming glittering 
bullets, its "little pills” penetrated the flesh, tore the 
convicts’ ranks, struck the steel plates of the bulk¬ 
heads and the lower decks, and disseminated death 
on every hand. 

The few men who were uninjured among the first 




^ 11 1 1 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ — ■ . ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■■!■ ■ ■■ ■! 

THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 171 

group of convicts fell back, leaving a pile of corpses 
at the entrance to the cages. Cheri-Bibi was obliged 
to retreat with the rest. He was not wounded, though, 
to all appearance, he sought death in this sanguinary 
encounter in which he seemed to be playing the re¬ 
turn match with fate. The Countess pressed one hand 
against the bulkhead for support, while with the other 
she wiped with an unconscious gesture the blood from 
her face. A splinter from a shot had ripped open her 
forehead. The madness of defeat and death dwelt in 
her infuriated eyes and screaming mouth. 

“We are done for!” growled Cheri-Bibi, while his 
forces behind him, crowded within the narrow channel 
of the cages and the ladders, yelled their determina¬ 
tion not to die “down there” but “on deck ... on 
deck.” 

The men behind pushed forward the men in front 
into the radius covered by the Hotchkiss gun, which, 
fortunately for the convicts, was rather narrow. 
Nevertheless, more men were killed. 

Cheri-Bibi had reckoned without the gun. 

Nothing remained but to die in their retreat unless 
they could succeed in getting out . . . and to get out; 
of it. . . . 

Suddenly an idea occurred to Cheri-Bibi. 

“Bring the kit bags,” he shouted, “all the blooming 
lot, and the deputy-warders’ mattresses. We’ll set 
’em on fire; a fire as hot as a furnace! They won’t 
stand it, and we’ll get through. It’s a poor look-out 




172 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


for those who funk scorching their paws. Who’s got 
a light?” 

“I have,” said the Dodger, handing him his auto¬ 
matic match-box. 

They heaped up the straw mattresses and canvas 
hags in front of the hatchway, and soon a great and 
acrid cloud of smoke ascended, and was succeeded by 
long tongues of flame, and then by a denser mass of 
smoke, forcing the men on deck to draw back. The 
Captain and his men had to move away with their 
Hotchkiss gun to prevent themselves from being suf¬ 
focated. 

Oaths and shouts abounded: “Get at the warders! 

. . . Fire! Fire! ... To the pumps! Fire! They’ve 
tricked us by firing the ship. . . Ship on fire! . . . 
To the pumps, damn and blast it!” 

And from this miniature volcano, for such the 
hatchway became, from this smoking chasm whence 
issued a clamor of pitiable or savage cries, from 
amid the smoke as it swept upwards, fiends in human 
form leapt into view. Some possessed, as it were, 
wings of flame and flung themselves at the overseers 
to set them on fire in their turn; others who had di¬ 
vested themselves of all clothing the better to plunge 
through this furnace, brandished their rifles on high 
as though they were clubs. . . . That was how Cheri- 
Bibi labored with the butt end of his terrible rifle, 
swooping down on many a head and creating round 
him a wide reddening circle. 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 173 


“Forward! . . . Forward! . . . rebels, . . he 
shouted, foaming at the mouth. “Forward! . . . 
They can’t kill the dead!” 

Standing at his side was a veritable fury. It was 
the Countess, who waved her blood-stained hands 
while her abundant tresses played round her livid 
temples like serpents. She fought with a cutlass. 
Then came the Dodger, whose head had been injured 
by his own rifle, and who had abandoned fighting in 
order to act as “scout” to Cheri-Bibi and to defend 
him from an unlucky blow. Like King John’s son 
at Poitiers, he cried out to Cheri-Bibi during the 
combat: 

“Look to your left! . . . Look to your right!” 

The smoke died down when the mattresses and kit 
bags blazed up, and from the hatchway, which was 
now clear, an innumerable and hideous band of men 
with a thousand heads crept in an unceasing stream. 
. . . The inferno was vomiting forth its devils. . . . 
The fight was no longer anything but a hand-to-hand 
struggle in which it was impossible to distinguish one 
man from another. The Hotchkiss gun was of no 
service in this indescribable melee. The Captain and 
de Vilene, covered with wounds, continued to fight, 
yielding their ground by inches and heartening their 
men by the force of their heroic example. 

With his own hand the Captain struck down half a 
dozen convicts, and he strove to come face to face 




174 WOLVES OF THE SEA 


with Cheri-Bibi, but that elusive individual seemed 
invulnerable. 

Overwhelmed by weight of numbers, half of his 
men unarmed, Barrachon was forced to give way, and 
he ordered the retreat when young Sub-Lieutenant de 
Kerrosgouet fell gloriously beside the Hotchkiss gun 
which was under his charge. It was necessary to save 
the gun, to retire to the protection of the second Hotch¬ 
kiss, and to run out both guns against the rabble 
who had mastered the entire forecastle deck. That 
was their only chance of safety. 

Suddenly a terrible hail of shot took the sailors and 
military overseers in the rear. Barrachon and de 
Vilene turned round, and a simultaneous exclamation 
of despair escaped from their lips. Above them, on 
the roof of the chart-room, they sighted three fiends 
all black and a little man all white. Three coal- 
trimmers and the journeyman baker, the Dodger, had 
seized the 47 mm. Hotchkiss, and were turning it on 
the men on deck, not hesitating, in their frenzy for 
destruction, to mow down their own men. 

Nothing was left to the Captain but to get away 
with the last of his men to the quarter-deck and there 
to entrench himself with the other gun. 

The Captain ordered the retreat. He could depend 
on some hundred and fifty unwounded men who would 
sell their lives dearly. 

Drunk with victory, some of them black with pow¬ 
der, others red with blood, Cheri-Bibi’s men were 




THE REVOLT OF THE CONVICTS 175 


getting ready to rush forward and finish off the re¬ 
mainder of the crew and warders, when a dense smoke 
issued from the hatchways, and the sinister cry “Ship 
on fire” caused them to v/aver. 

The conflagration made a barrier between the two 
forces. And the necessity to arrest the scourge be¬ 
fore it could destroy the ship which had cost them so 
much to conquer, seized the entire mass of insurgents. 
Under the direction of the Dodger, who knew how to 
man the pumps, the convicts set to work to extinguish 
the fire. 

At the same time this strange figure who understood 
more about the ship than any one else, ordered all the 
entrances which led to the heart of the conflagration 
to be closed, and the hatches covered with wet tar¬ 
paulins. The convicts fell foul of each other, like 
men possessed, in this great and frightful confusion 
of dead and dying. Cries and oaths went up in the 
fast closing night. From the depths below, where the 
women and children were incarcerated, came heart¬ 
rending shrieks as though they were being burnt alive. 
In the after part of the Bayard , on the quarter-deck, 
spasmodic firing still continued. And then it died 
into silence, for Barra chon and his men had fired their 
last shot. Every man thought that the end was in 
sight. 

To the unparalleled evils of fire and sword was 
added yet another: tempest. The roaring of the fire, 
and the hissing of the water as it evaporated amid- 




176 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


ships, were succeeded by the howling of the wind 
which once again had veered to the north-west and 
was blowing a gale. In the sky, above those figures 
covered with blood, clouds were gathering from the 
pale distant horizon, with the coming of an ominous 
dawn. Tremendous waves already swept the seas and 
played with the wretched vessel which could not 
maneuver now that she was without a chief to con¬ 
trol Her. 

With no sort of guidance she could neither keep 
her head nor sail before the wind nor avoid the violent 
buffeting of the waves on her quarter. 

The demons who came out of the inferno returned 
to the inferno. Standing on the Captain’s bridge, at 
the post to which pride and rebellion had raised him, 
and where he could do nothing for himself or others, 
nothing but rejoice at the disaster which had befallen 
them and take the lead in it, Cheri-Bibi was like an 
evil spirit ? with head once more upraised—in defiance 
—to the God who afflicted him, his own particular 
God, whom he called Fatalitas. 

On the deck in the midst of this confused medley 
of men and sea and skies, a young girl was on her 
knees praying to the God whom she called “Our 
Father which art in Heaven,” and beseeching His 
mercy for all the souls on the ship without exception 
—convicts, convict guards and Cheri-Bibi. 




CHAPTER VIII 


BROTHER AND SISTER 

Taking advantage of the leisure which first the return 
of calmer weather, second the successful handling of 
the fire, and finally the “restoration of order” on 
board, had left him during the last twenty-four hours, 
Cheri-Bibi was trying on, before the wardrobe, his 
new clothes. It must be admitted that the uniform 
fitted him like a glove, and he turned round and round 
with an expression of ingenuousness on his face that 
would have disarmed his judges. 

“For that matter,” he said to himself, “I don’t see 
why this uniform should not suit me, seeing that my 
own suits the Captain so well.” 

At this juncture the Dodger came in. He had been 
appointed Sub-Lieutenant. His pierrot-like face, or¬ 
namented with strips of court plaster from temple 
to chin, bore witness to a scar of which he was so 
proud that he would not have exchanged it for a king¬ 
dom. 

“Captain,” he said, “the Lieutenant has just been 
taking the ship’s bearings.” 

“I see,” said Cheri-Bibi in a tone which indicated an 
indifference to anything but stripes and brass buttons, 

177 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


l^ 1 — 

178 

the fascinating effect of which he was examining and 
admiring in the glass. 

“It seems that we turned a few degrees too far to 
the south.” 

“Quite possible. . . . Tell me, Dodger, what do 
you think of my uniform?” 

“First rate, Captain. ... It looks as if it had been 
made for you.” 

“All the same,” sighed Cheri-Bibi, twirling an 
imaginary moustache, “it was unfortunate that we had 
a Minister of Marine who abolished full dress. I 
once saw full dress when I rowed in the Admiral’s 
boat, on the first of January, in Cayenne. Think of 
the cocked hat!” 

“The epaulets.” 

“The trousers with gold braid.” 

“The dress-coat,” sighed the Dodger. “Oh, at La 
Rochelle whenever there was a ball at the Prefecture 
the military came from Lorient in full fig. In my 
opinion the Minister was jealous . . . and you may 
depend upon it, he was a civilian.” 

“A socialist minister,” said Cheri-Bibi with a con¬ 
temptuous grimace. “There’s no hope with such peo¬ 
ple. They are the enemies of government and of all 
discipline. Now, bear this in mind, Dodger, without 
discipline, which emanates directly from government, 
and which can only be respected if it is adorned with 
distinctive badges, everything goes. There’s an end 
of civilized society.” 




r 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


179 


“How well you put it, Captain. You ought to re¬ 
peat that to Little Buddha, who turns up his nose 
when I ask him to do anything, twiddles his thumbs, 
and passes his time in getting as drunk as a lord. 
. . . He is under my orders and he ought to do what 
I say. He tells me he doesn’t care a damn. But it’s 
not my fault if he hasn’t found a non-commissioned 
officer’s uniform that’ll fit him.” 

“What about the Top? Has he found a uniform 
that suits him?” 

“Yes, he’s managed to unearth one.” 

“What is his rank?” asked the Captain. 

“Well, he’s yeoman of signals.” 

“That’s right, it’s just as well,” returned Cheri- 
Bibi as he crammed his fingers into a fine pair of 
white gloves. “That’s a bit of luck. We haven’t got 
a yeoman of signals, have we?” 

At that point the Toper showed his face at the door. 
He was attired in a lieutenant’s full dress which was 
much too tight for him, but he did not complain lest 
they should find him a petty officer’s cast-off uniform 
which would not have satisfied his ambition. His 
right arm was in a sling. 

“The Kanaka has just found the ship’s position,” 
he said. 

“Yes, I know that,” returned Cheri-Bibi with an 
astonishingly easy bearing. “Will you have a cig¬ 
arette?” 

“A stinker. I don’t mind if I do, Captain.” 




180 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Damn it all, I’ll put you under arrest if I hear you 
use such language again. Do you understand, Toper? 
A stinker! Get it into your nut once for all, my lad, 
that you are my second lieutenant. Well, speak like 
a gentleman or give up your gold stripes.” 

“Very good. Captain,” replied the unfortunate 
Toper, lowering his head with an abashed air. 

There was a knock at the door and Little Buddha 
came in, as round as a top and as red as a turkey- 
cock. Dressed as an ordinary seaman, but wearing 
the distinctive marks of an orderly—jacket, trousers 
with wide ends, large turned back collar, oilskin cap 
—he wore a white bandage over his forehead almost 
completely hiding the traces of the late fight. He gave 
the regulation salute. 

“Captain, I’ve come to tell you that the Lieutenant, 
who was able to determine the hour-angle this morn¬ 
ing and was on the point of finding the meridian 
altitude, has just taken an accurate observation . . .” 

“You, my dear fellow,” interrupted Cheri-Bibi, 
“are trying to show off on the plea that you’ve been 
longer at school than we have. And perhaps you’d 
like to make us believe that you know something of 
navigation. You’ve got a swollen head, Little Buddha. 
What good is it going to do me that he’s taken the 
ship’s position? I don’t care one way or the other 
as long as the fine weather lasts.” 

“All the same, Captain, we must know where we’re 
going and what we’re going-to do,” they objected. 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


181 


I 

“I’ll tell you when it suits my fancy, you under¬ 
stand, you fellows. I am the only person to give 
orders here. If you are not satisfied with your posi¬ 
tions you’d better say so. Isn’t the program for 
the day good enough for you? Stroll in the Zoo¬ 
logical Gardens, ball, banquet, junketing. . . . Se¬ 
rious business to-morrow. Hold your jaw until the 
yeoman of signals enters your cabin and says: ‘Gen¬ 
tlemen of the Staff are expected to report themselves 
to the Captain.’ Then I will tell you what I intend 
to do. Do you follow me? Well, right about turn, 
march!” 

“Captain, I want a word with you on behalf of 
the Countess,” ventured Little Buddha diffidently, 
turning back when he reached the door. 

“Oh, rats! What does she want with me?” 

“A few moments’ conversation.” 

“What does she take me for?” exclaimed Cheri- 
Bibi in an indignant voice. “Every moment of my 
time belongs to the community. I have no right to 
waste a single second, particularly in listening to a 
woman’s chatter.” 

“I say, Captain, she’s been very useful to us. . . .” 

“She’s in love with you, Captain,” cried the Toper. 
“You can see that from the fiery glances which she 
casts at you . . .” 

But the Toper stopped short when he saw the look 
which Cheri-Bibi shot at him. The Captain went up to 
the Lieutenant as if he intended to annihilate him. 





182 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Be quiet!” he snarled. . . . “You may as well 
understand one thing: Cheri-Bibi has always been a 
moral man, and it is not at this moment when you 
see him wearing a Captain’s uniform that he’ll begin 
to go to the bad. The Kanaka is a friend of mine. 
A friend’s wife is sacred. Besides, I want the women 
on board to be respected. The reason why you, Toper, 
are not dead at this moment is because Sister St. Mary 
of the Angels saved your life. Don’t forget that. 
And if you say another word which is not strictly 
proper you’ll have her to deal with, I can tell you.” 

“Very good, Captain,” said the Lieutenant, stand¬ 
ing to attention. 

“How is the saintly girl getting on?” he inquired. 

“Much better,” replied Cheri-Bibi. “The Kanaka 
and I passed the night at her bedside. She is now 
out of danger. She was suffering from a little fever. 
As to the bullet, that’s a mere trifle. It can stay where 
it is in the shoulder blade, and be extracted later on. 
Nothing is the matter with her lungs, which is the 
important point. And now go, all of you, where duty 
calls you.” 

They went out after the Captain. A number of men 
on the lower decks were washing, cleaning, rubbing 
and polishing, and endeavoring, as far as possible 
to remove the traces of the frightful agony which had 
convulsed the Bayard. The men wore convicts’ garb 
and they bore a number on their arms. They were 
closely watched by convict guards, revolver in hand. 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


183 


The Sergeant on duty saluted the Captain as he passed. 

“Anything fresh, Carrots?” 

“Nothing fresh, Captain.” 

“How about the ward . . . ?” 

“Captain!” the Toper had the courage to interject. 

“Oh, yes, I was forgetting,” said Cheri-Bibi, smiling 
at his slip. “And Messieurs the late military over¬ 
seers,” he went on, bending over and examining the 
convicts’ work, “are they getting used to their new 
positions?” 

“Daren’t grumble. Captain. Besides, the first who 
kicked would have his brains blown out.” 

“That’s the standing order. Sergeant,” said Cheri- 
Bibi approvingly. “By the way, stock-jobber, what’s 
been done with my standing orders?” 

“We’ve read them to the men and to the prisoners 
in the cages, and in addition I’ve posted them on 
deck.” 

“Good,” complimented Cheri-Bibi. “Authority and 
system, those are the twin masters on board repre¬ 
sented by myself. Before those two precious forces— 
listen to this, you fellows—every man on board must 
bow, officers and ship’s company alike. If we want 
to do any good, we must have an iron discipline. 
There must be no exceptions. Every man must per¬ 
fectly understand that he is the master of nothing on 
my ship but the air he breathes, and then only when 
he is actually breathing it. . . .” 

He strode on, drawing himself up to his full height 






184 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


and followed by his staff, who were turned to stone 
while the military overseers—the convicts of yester¬ 
day—presented arms. 

He stopped for a moment, gazed at the deck, and 
addressed a few short sharp words to a petty officer 
who was lazily directing the cleaning of a ladder. 

6S There are bloodstains here. . . . Have them 
scraped off.” 

He entered the sick-bay, which was crowded with 
the wounded and re-echoing with their sufferings. 
For twenty-four hours the Kanaka and the hospital 
orderlies had been amputating legs and arms amidst 
shrieking men. Cheri-Bibi’s appearance was greeted 
with shouts of mingled enthusiasm and hostility. And 
suddenly the man who had come with the intention of 
making a little speech of encouragement to them, felt 
suffocated in the oppressive odor of iodoform, and 
he turned his back and went away unashamed, de¬ 
claring that “war was a horrible thing,” and that he 
wondered at those generals who, after a victory, could 
ride over the battle-field amid the dead and dying 
with a smile on their lips, such as he had seen when 
he was a schoolboy in pictures in his “History of 
France.” For himself, it made him feel rather in¬ 
clined to weep. 

He was under the influence of this impression when, 
having sent a message that he was coming, he opened 
the door of Sister St. Mary’s cabin. She lay in bed 
under the assiduous care of two nurses. A look of 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


185 


unspeakable sadness was on her pale face, and she 
did not return her brother’s greeting. Her eyes were 
lifted to heaven as if in prayer. Indeed her glance 
avoided the terrible man. After he had dismissed 
her nurses she murmured, still without looking at him: 

“Is that you, Monsieur? What do you want with 
me? I cannot help you now that God has forsaken 
you. I prayed that He would bring you to repentance. 
But your fresh crimes surpass in horror those which 
you committed before. . . . Heavens, what a number 
of slain!” and she covered her face with her hands 
as though to shut out the awful spectacle of mutiny 
and massacre of which, sick unto death, she had been 
a witness towards the end. 

Cheri-Bibi regarded her for some time without 
speaking, filled with a new emotion which he vainly 
strove to conceal. At length he took a chair and sat 
down by her bedside. Then he grasped her hand, 
which shook and trembled in his. For a moment she 
tried to withdraw it, but finally it remained passive 
under his dominating pressure. 

“My little Jacqueline,” he gasped in a hoarse voice. 
“My little Jacqueline.” 

The unhappy girl shook her head gently, mourn¬ 
fully, for there was now no little Jacqueline . . . had 
not been for a long time, a very long time. There 
was no little Jacqueline since men had made her suffer 
so greatly. Not since there happened to be one man 
—the father of her best friend, of her young mistress. 




186 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


of her good Cecily—who had dared to run foul of 
that innocence which, until then, had been untouched 
save “by the wing of prayer,” to use the language of 
Cheri-Bibi, which at times was singularly poetic. 
There was no longer a little Jacqueline since her 
Cheri-Bibi had . . . Oh, Cheri-Bibi, Cheri-Bibi! 
She had loved him so! 

She saw him once more quite a little boy, joining 
in innocent games with her in the fragrant garden 
in the break of the cliff in those happy spring days in 
Normandy. He was a very ugly little boy, slightly 
capricious, slightly odd, but entirely gentle and good, 
and obedient in whatever she told him to do. 

In turn they sought each other at school in Dieppe, 
and went back home like sensible children, saying 
“How do you do,” to the good wives of Le Pollet 
mending their nets, on the doorsteps, with long wooden 
needles. And then she saw again the hill at Puys 
with the flowers and butterflies all along the way. 

Sometimes, though it was forbidden, they returned 
home by way of the cliff so as to have sight of the 
white sails on the sea, and to throw pebbles from the 
top onto the beach. They played and rolled about in 
the grass, or else, while eating their bread and butter, 
watched with curiosity the waving arms of the sema¬ 
phore. He was even then strong and brave and stood 
in front of her when the cows drew near and stared 
too closely at them. How very fond they were of 
each other! . . . Cheri-Bibi! Cheri-Bibi! Her lips 





BROTHER AND SISTER 


187 


could not hold back the four dear syllables; they 
slipped out, softly, musically, as of yore. Cheri-Bibi! 

Cheri-Bibi burst into tears. He sank with his head 
on the bed and wept in his fine Captain’s uniform as 
he had never wept in his cast-off convict’s clothes. 

She too cried; and at length she said, gently with¬ 
drawing her hand from his despairing clasp: 

“I ask God to forgive me for it, but, you see, in spite 
of your crimes I have not forgotten those days . . . 
that blessed time of our childhood . . . and if I still 
think of you without execrating you like other people, 
it is because I cannot forget that you committed your 
first crime for my sake. Oh, why did you set your 
mind on avenging me, Cheri-Bibi?” 

As he heard those words the monster raised his 
head, instantly dry-eyed. He was consumed with a 
fury that burnt up his tears. 

He rose with a wild gesture, stood erect above the 
poor nun’s bed, and lacerated the skin on his face with 
his nails to still the need in him to tear something to 
pieces. 

“Oh, you too . . . you too! You believed the 
Judge, and you always thought that I was lying. And 
yet you knew what I was. You saw me every day. 
You kissed me every day. You read my heart as you 
read a hook. I’ve never lied to you ... to you. Yet 
you were like every one else, you believed that I was 
guilty of that crime. I wrote you fifty times ex¬ 
plaining how it all happened. I swore to you that I 





188 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


was innocent. And now this is what you tell me. If 
it is for this that you came so far you might have 
stayed at home, Sister St. Mary of the Angels.” 

“I came about another crime,” she said, laying her 
hand on her breast, for she felt as if she were stifling, 
and Cheri-Bibi’s anger had appalled her. 

“For another what?” 

“For another crime of which I know that you are 
innocent.” 

“Oh, really, there are many of that sort,” he said 
in a thick voice. “But the first one means more to 
me than all the others. It is a load on my mind. It 
was the cause of everything . . . the starting point 
of everything. . . . The others have passed from my 
memory. . . . But that one . . . that one made me 
what I am. . . . Oh, I swear to you that I did not 
commit that crime as people believe. Why did you 
not have faith in what I wrote to you; what I once 
said to you in the Assize Court? Is it worth while to 
worship the Almighty if He makes you as blind as 
other people are? You were the first to condemn 
me. . . . 

“There you have the justice of your God, which 
does not see more clearly than any other justice. Oh, 
Jacqueline . . . I’ll tell you something. I expected 
you to come to the Assize Court, and to cry aloud: 
‘What he says is true. ... On my soul my brother 
is innocent!’ But you didn’t come, and you still 
believe that it was I who faked up the whole story.” 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


189 


“Yes, I believed that you did it, Cheri-Bibi,” said 
Sister St. Mary, sinking her voice. “But I say again 
that I have nothing against you for that. I have 
taken upon myself, before God, the burden of that 
particular crime, because you cared for me sufficiently 
to commit it for me.” 

“Perhaps you’re right. . . . And it might well 
have happened. But if it had happened, believe me, 
Jacqueline ... if it had happened, well, I wouldn’t 
have made a mystery of it. I would have told you. 
I would have told all the world. I would have boasted 
about it in the country. That is the point which you 
haven’t realized, Jacqueline. That is the point which 
you must realize. ... If you had understood it in 
that way, why, I shouldn’t be looking to-day for the 
man in the gray hat, the man who was the cause of 
all my troubles. You would have played your part. 
You would have remained in the country. ... You 
would have kept your eyes and ears open. . . . You 
would, perhaps, have discovered him. You would 
have won back your brother’s honor before he had 
become what he is. Now it’s too late; there’s nothing, 
to be done. I am looked upon as a terror in the 
world from what I can gather. Every murder that 
is perpetrated is put down to Cheri-Bibi. Well, it 
was bound to come true in the end, for here I am 
at the head of a notorious gang. And since they 
would have it so, I must employ them. . . . 

“I am accursed, Jacqueline. It’s no use praying 




190 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


for me. . . . Well, while I’m on this point, I may 
tell you that no trouble of any sort would have oc¬ 
curred but for the Captain, whose obstinacy is the 
cause of it all. He is a pig-headed fellow is the 
Captain, I can tell you. ... I offered him a way out 
of the difficulty which was highly original. Do you 
know what I suggested? That he should land me 
quietly on some deserted and uninhabited shore . . . 
far from the society which sickens me. And it may 
he that there I should have become a saint. Upon my 
word, when I think of it I feel myself capable of 
being one! He refused to hear of it. He wanted 
war. I said to him: ‘Since it is war between us, I’ll 
fight you.’ Then the fighting broke out, and there 
you are!” 

“No, no, it wasn’t fighting, wretched men that you 
are, cursed of God,” faltered Sister St. Mary, whose 
eyes were filled anew with the awful vision of the 
slaughter. “You murdered them.” 

“What do you mean? What do you mean? Look 
here, have you lost your senses? Come, tell me this: 
What did they do when they fired upon us?” 

“They did their duty.” 

“And I tell you that you know absolutely nothing 
about it. You are a girl who can’t see the difference 
between one kind of death and another.” He went 
past the glass and caught sight of himself in uniform. 
“Many more men were killed at the Battle of Tra¬ 
falgar!” 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


191 


He sincerely believed that his sister was quite unjust 
in comparing his “naval battle,” as he called it, with 
the criminal incidents in his extraordinary career. 

As she did not answer his sharp retort he turned 
round and observed that her head had fallen on to the 
pillow. Her face was so white that he was greatly 
alarmed, and thought of calling in the Kanaka, who 
had taken the place, in the sick-bay, of the chief sur¬ 
geon killed on the field of honor. But she opened 
her eyes again and said with a sigh: 

“Cheri-Bibi, I hope that God, in His mercy is going 
to take me to Him. I will pray for you, but before I 
die you must promise me one thing, that you will 
respect the lives of the people who are left, and will 
not touch a hair of the heads of the women and chil¬ 
dren here.” 

“I can promise you, my sister, that we will land 
them uninjured on the coast as soon as we can do so 
without danger,” said Cheri-Bibi, almost forcing her 
to take a few drops of a draught which gave her 
renewed life. “The women and children are in their 
own quarters. I will see that they want for nothing. 
I am having them guarded, and there is nothing to 
fear on that score.” 

In spite of his promise Sister St. Mary betrayed a 
certain anxiety. 

“The poor things,” she complained. “I fear the 
worst from such ruffians.” 

“You can be easy in your mind, I assure you,” 




192 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


he replied with a knowing air. 4 ‘The ruffians have 
everything they want.” 

“What do you mean? . . . You frighten me.” 

“Weren’t there women prisoners in the cages?” 

“Oh,” she muttered with a blush. 

“There’s no ‘Oh’ about it. . . . Both parties are 
made to understand each other. And then don’t think 
that my men are heartless. Some of them even burst 
into poetry. They used to write each other love letters, 
and the unfortunate thing was that they were kept 
apart. Well, now they are together. They are satis¬ 
fied ; they don’t want any wrong-doing, and they are as 

meek as lambs in mv hands. Listen to this as an ex- 

•/ 

ample: Yesterday, when we were clearing the ship of 
the dead bodies, throwing them into the sea, two men 
from the old financiers’ cage took advantage of our 
saying a De Profundis to fight like a couple of bruisers 
on the lower deck, for a woman, an old offender, 
uglier, upon my word, than the seven deadly sins. 
I broke the heads of both of them with my revolver. 

“Oh, but I intend to have some regard for morality 
on board. The men have grasped the position, and, 
please believe me, are now civil to women. For that 
matter I promised the Captain that it should be so, 
for he feared lest they might behave badly to the 
fair sex. Forgive me for speaking of these things, 
but you brought it on yourself.” 

“Where is the Captain?” 

“He insisted on joining his crew and the military 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


193 


overseers who were already in the cages. I promised 
that their lives should be spared in return for their 
assistance, which we forced them to render us, in 
weathering the storm.” 

“How do you work the ship now?” 

“By our own resources,” replied Cheri-Bibi, “and 
with the assistance of the old crew. We’ve kept two 
helmsmen and the chief engineer, and such other men 
as are required for the ship’s working. They con¬ 
tinue to help us, under pain of death, and subject to 
the authority of the Kanaka, the doctor who looks 
after you with so much devotion. He was a bit of a 
jack of all trades before he found himself among us. 
He was once at the naval school at Brest, then he 
studied medicine, afterwards he became a ship’s sur¬ 
geon, and he’s been round the world several times. 
He knows a thing or two, and has been very useful 
to us.” 

“In what way has he been useful? You are convicts 
and madmen. The day is not far distant when you 
will be hunted out and punished. Have you con¬ 
sidered that an adventure like this can lead to abso¬ 
lutely no good?” 

“My dear girl, people will think that the ship was 
lost with all hands in the storm. He shall know how 
to manage that. And afterwards, we shall take our 
chances like so many other people in the world. But, 
first of all, I promise you that all the men who are 
left over from the old crew shall be landed in a safe 




194 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


place. Furthermore, I hope that you will soon be 
well again. And you too, my dear Jacqueline, you 
shall be delivered from this hell.” 

“In which you are Satan, Cheri-Bibi. Oh, may the 
Lord lead you to think things over before you add 
new crimes to the old ones. Just now, you spoke of 
the desert. You wanted to become a hermit. If you 
wish it, Cheri-Bibi, I will go with you.” 

“Too late! I can’t leave my friends in the lurch. 
After getting them in such a fix, it would be cow¬ 
ardice, take that from Cheri-Bibi.” 

“Your friends?” 

“Of course,” said Cheri-Bibi, “they are detestable 
rascals. But I didn’t choose their company. ... It 
was the judges who wrongly condemned me. It was 
society which put me in a cage as if I were a wild 
beast. It was Fatality which, as I know full well, 
one cannot fight against.” 

“I, too, Cheri-Bibi, have had my troubles. I, too, 
have been pursued by Fatality. But I took refuge in 
religion, not in crime.” 

“You! That’s a very different thing,” said Cheri- 
Bibi in a dogmatic tone. “You are a girl and I am 
a man. . . . There are certain things that a man will 
not take lying down if he has any grit in him. He 
begins to kick . . . particularly if he’s a butcher’s 
boy! \ou see, Jacqueline, they were too unjust to 
me. It was bound to lead to disaster. . . . But, tell 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


195 


me, what did you mean just now? . . . You spoke 
of another murder.” 

Sister St. Mary of the Angels once more raised her 
eyes to heaven. 

“One drop of blood,” she said, “ a tiny drop of 
blood which was not shed by you in the red sea in 
which you are sailing.” 

“Out with it. It doesn’t often happen that any 
one says to me: ‘You are not guilty of this crime.’ 
To what crime are you referring?” 

“To the murder of the Marquis du Touchais, 
Cecily’s father-in-law.” 

“Cecily! . . . Tell me about her. . . . Tell me 
about her. . . . Now that my poor parents are dead 
I’m not interested in what may happen at Dieppe. 
. . . But Cecily . . . Just now when you recalled 
our walks on the cliff I was thinking of her. ... I 
saw her as she was when sometimes she came among 
the corn with her mother. . . . She made herself 
garlands of corn and corn-poppies . . . and then 
afterwards when I delivered the meat she weighed 
the joints, and always ordered calves’ bones for the 
gravy. . . . She asked for them in so soft a voice. 
. . . She liked both of us. . . . Does she still be¬ 
lieve that I murdered her father on purpose?” 

“Yes, she still believes it.” 

“Oh! . . . Does she still believe that I murdered 
her husband’s father as well?” 

“Yes, she still believes it.” 




196 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The monster clenched his fists and wrung his fingers. 

“That, you see, is the most awful thing of all. 
. . . Because I can tell you, and perhaps you have 
guessed it ... I was in love with Cecily. I idolized 
her. . . . Oh, of course, it was from such a dis¬ 
tance that it couldn’t do her any harm. Well, I shall 
never forgive your God, you understand, Jacqueline, 
for allowing fate to sully my reputation in her eyes. 
. . . You may say so on my behalf.” 

“God knows that you are innocent of the Marquis 
du Touchais’s murder.” 

“God is not sufficient. Is there any one else who 
knows it? Tell me, Jacqueline.” 

“I know it.” 

“Any one else?” 

“Some woman whom you know very well, Cheri- 
Bibi.” 

“What’s her name? . . . You must tell me. . . . 
You must tell me everything. ... As you may well 
believe, this is something more than a piece of childish 
nonsense. I am not asking you at random as though 
it were a date in French history. I insist on your 
telling me. If I said that it was to demand justice 
you would laugh. Is there any justice for Cheri- 
Bibi? No! But I want justice done to me. Because 
the person who knows that I am innocent equally 
knows who is guilty. She knows the man in the gray 
hat. She might perhaps give me his name. Oh, pray 
to your God, Sister St. Mary of the Angels, for if 




I 


BROTHER AND SISTER 197 


it is true I may be able to lay hands on him. . . . 
Afterwards I will ask nothing better than to enter a 
Trappist monastery.” 

“Cheri-Bibi, I haven’t told you all this so that you 
may be revenged on him. Besides, I can’t help you 
to wreak your vengeance, for I do not know who the 
guilty one is.” 

“No, but there are people who do know. Come, 
my little sister, my little Jacqueline . . . tell me how 
it all happened . . . tell me what I ought to know. 
You say that you’re going to die. I tell you that it’s 
not true, but if you think so, you can’t wish to carry 
a secret like that to the grave with you. I’m listening.” 

“It’s not I who ought to speak, but some one else. 
. . . Some one who will reveal everything at the 
proper time.” 

“But suppose she dies, what would happen then?” 

“She has made arrangements for everything to be 
known when the time comes.” 

“When the time comes! A lot of good that will 
do me! But look here, is there no way of putting the 
clock on a bit? Tell me what you know about it.” 

He spoke to her, the better to persuade her, in the 
slightly sing-song schoolboy tone and in the rough 
phrases which were characteristic of the country round 
about Le Pollet. 

Sister St. Mary of the Angels passed her hand over 
her forehead, and seemed for a moment to be taking 
counsel with herself. 





198 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Yes,” she said, “you ought at least to know who 
it is that possesses the secret. Listen then, Cheri- 
Bibi. It occurred some days before Christmas. I 
was going round the country collecting subscriptions 
for the poor children in the public nursery. I called 
on the Marchioness du Touchais.” 

“Cecily.” 

“Yes, Cecily. She was still very friendly with me, 
often confiding her troubles to me, and never losing 
an opportunity of alleviating want when I brought a 
case under her notice, if it was in her power. . . .” 

“What do you mean, if it was in her power? Hadn’t 
she always the power to do so? I thought those 
people were millionaires.” 

“They’re getting richer and richer every day, 
Cheri-Bibi. Old Bourrelier . . .” 

“The man I murdered,” he jeered in a dismal 
voice. 

Sister St. Mary went on as if she had not heard 
him. 

“Old Bourrelier invested his money well. After 
his death it was discovered that he had bought, for 
next to nothing, a considerable amount of property in 
Rouen, in the old St. Julien quarter, and an immense 
number of old tumble-down houses which, at that time, 
brought in very little, but which since the municipality 
transformed that locality have become one of the 
finest properties in Rouen. It all belonged to old 
Bourrelier, and it now belongs to the du Touchais’s* 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


199 


People say that they cleared more than twenty million 
francs out of this affair alone.” 

“Twenty million francs!” sighed Cheri-Bibi with 
eyes upturned as if he could discern the promised 

land. 

“Oh, the du Touchais’s are immensely rich now. 
Madame Bourrelier is dead, and her death brought 
more grist to the mill.” 

“Not altogether,” said Cheri-Bibi. “Cecily Bour¬ 
relier had a brother.” 

“Yes, Robert. . . . She still has him, but I don’t 
think she’ll have him very long. Cecily’s husband 
will see to that.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, it’s simple enough. The two young men were 
scarcely out of each other’s sight before Maxime was 
married. It is the same thing now. They lead very’ 
dissipated lives, you understand. Maxime is killing 
him by degrees with drink . . . and other things. 
He arranges for his brother-in-law always to be sur¬ 
rounded by a certain class of women who play his 
game for him. ... For many years it’s been a great 
scandal in Dieppe. They carry on in a way which 
arouses comment in the entire district, particularly 
in the summer during the racing season. Robert 
Bourrelier is only the shadow of his former self. 
When he dies, his money, like the rest, will go to the 
Marquis.” 

“You always say the Marquis’s money,” returned 





200 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Cheri-Bibi, who was listening to his sister with ab¬ 
sorbed interest, “but I suppose it belongs in part to 
Cecily. . . . And with a fortune which exceeds thirty 
million francs, she can certainly help the poor and 
buy Christmas trees for the public nurseries,” he 
added dogmatically. 

“That’s exactly where you make a mistake. . . . 
There’s something that I haven’t explained. The Mar¬ 
quis keeps a tight hold of the purse strings in his 
wife’s house. She has nothing at her command. He 
controls everything. Sometimes she has to ask him 
for money as if she were a beggar woman.” 

“That’s too thick. But she’s only got to say the 
word. Everything belongs to her.” 

“I dare say; but she is forced to give way to her 
husband’s every wish because of their son, Bernard, 
whom his father is continually threatening to send to 
a boarding school in Paris to be brought up as he 
pleases. Remember that the only consolation the un¬ 
happy woman has is this son whom she worships, and 
trains and educates herself. She would rather die 
than be parted from him, and the thought that he 
might be taken from her and placed in a school, some 
distance away, is enough to make her submit to any¬ 
thing. Besides, she never opposes the arbitrary de¬ 
cisions of her husband, and her life is entirely bound 
up in Bernard. She knows that a part of the fortune, 
whatever her husband may do, must revert to her 
child. Consequently the Marquis can go his own 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


201 


way. For that matter he doesn’t worry himself, as 
I’ve explained. There are many things that I could 
tell you on that subject, things of an unheard-of cruelty 
to poor Cecily, but it does not behoove me to enter 
into those horrors.” 

“Yes, yes, please, Jacqueline, my little Jacqueline, 
tell me everything . . . everything that can make me 
still further loathe and detest the monster who took 
Cecily from me.” 

He spoke in such tones, alike of entreaty and fury, 
and the language seemed so extravagant coming from 
his lips that his sister paused in alarm. 

“When I say ‘took Cecily from me,’ ” muttered 
Cheri-Bibi, “I know what I mean, and I am certainly 
the only one who does know, seeing that she was 
never mine. But, after all, he robbed her of happi¬ 
ness. Well, it is as though he had robbed me of 
my happiness, assuming that I ever had any. Do 
you realize something of what I feel now? Go on, 
my little Jacqueline . . . what else has he done, the 
scoundrel?” 

“Many other things like those which I have just 
told you. . . . You will be able to grasp the position. 
The young Marchioness lived after her marriage at 
the Chateau du Touchais on the cliff which you know 
so well. She settled down there with the Dowager 
Marchioness, Maxime’s mother. Her own mother, I 
must tell you, died almost immediately after old 
Bourrelier.” 




202 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Yes, yes, you needn’t dwell on that,” said Cheri- 
Bibi. 

“You will remember what a princely domain the 
Chateau du Touchais was,” went on Sister St. Mary, 
“and how Maxime was as proud as Punch of it. Well, 
one day he made his wife and his mother give up 
the place, and do you know why? To establish there 
under the nose of the poor things a ... a woman 
. . . his . . . exactly . . . you’ve guessed it.” 

Cheri-Bibi, incensed, gave a start. 

“That was too awful, you know, Jacqueline. I 
have done many things in my life,” he said in a 
tone of sincerity, “but I would never have hurt my 
mother’s feelings or put my wife to shame. . . . 
Where did the poor women go to live?” 

“They had no wish to leave the country in which 
they were both bom. Cecily went back to the Bour- 
reliers’ house, and the Dowager Marchioness rented 
a small cottage close by.” 

“I can imagine that there was a great deal of tittle- 
tattle in the country.” 

“You cannot conceive what a life the Marquis led 
her. Not a day passed without the other woman man¬ 
aging to inflict some affront upon her. ... As you 
know, Puys is a small place; it’s almost like living in 
the same street. The odious woman had only to turn 
round to belittle the Marchioness with her show, to 
splash her with her carriages and motor-cars. In 
short, as we say at home, she was the only one in it. 






BROTHER AND SISTER 


203 


. . . Throughout the district, within a certain radius, 
although she did not belong to the place, people called 
her the ‘Belle of Dieppe.’ That was the name which 
the Parisians who stay at Dieppe during the summer 
christened her, because the Marquis’s yacht was called 
the Belle of Dieppe .” 

“But what’s her real name? I don’t suppose she’s 
any better than she should be,” growled Cheri-Bibi, 
making a wry face. “Some woman who hangs about 
Paris, some chorus girl!” 

“No, no; she’s a lady, moving in fashionable 
Parisian society. She comes from Poland, and she 
has a name, a real name, and lives at her husband’s 
place during the summer. He is the Baron de 
Proskof.” 

“Well, and what does the husband say about it?” 

“He doesn’t say anything, and the story goes that 
he has no say in the matter. ... It seems that the 
Marquis du Touchais took over the Baron’s wife, who 
is very beautiful, and paid the Baron a million 
francs.” 

“What a delightful world to live in!” exclaimed 
Cheri-Bibi, with a gesture of disgust, and tears in his 
eyes as he thought of Cecily. “Oh, I fancy I see her 
now. . . . She must suffer greatly with such carrion 
round her; she who is so fastidious and sensitive. I 
can’t help pitying her. . . . It’s all very fine to say 
that the creature is ‘the only one in it.’ It’s not fair 
to allow respectable women to be crushed by a thing 




204 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


like that. . . . Oh, if I had the power I’d make her 
sit up. So you say that poor Cecily . . .” 

“Well, yes. . . . All this has led me away from 
the subject, but you now realize that Cecily is not 
her own mistress and is very unhappy. Every one at 
Dieppe sympathizes with her . . . she is so kind. 
. . . As I was saying, I called on her one evening 
before Christmas. It was last winter. I went to see 
her at her house, but I was told that she had ‘returned’ 
with her son, the Dowager Marchioness, and Rose, 
the lady-companion, to Puys, to the Bourreliers’ villa, 
where they were intending to spend quietly the Christ¬ 
mas holidays. I had to see her at once since I wanted 
to make up a certain sum to buy a Christmas tree for 
the poor children. In spite of the snow and the rough 
weather I did not hesitate to climb the hill, and behold 
me ringing the bell at the Bourreliers’ house. I never 
go where we lived so happily with our parents, my 
poor Cheri-Bibi, without a feeling of emotion which 
you will readily understand.” 

“Do I understand! . . .” 

“I rang the bell more than once. Some one in the 
distance called out in a voice which I did not recog¬ 
nize, ‘Who’s there?’ for of course the keeper’s lodge 
was unoccupied. I replied that it was Sister St. Mary 
of the Angels. A lantern and a shadow appeared and 
the door was opened. Who opened it? It was Rose, 
the lady-companion, to whom I had never had the 
opportunity of speaking, because though the old lady 
was pleasant enough with her mistress, she was quite 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


205 


surly with other people. . . . She never stopped to 
chat with any one. Apart from her association with 
the old Marchioness there was something mysterious 
about her. On that evening, however, she received 
me quite amiably, though it seemed to me that when 
she took my hand to lead me through the garden her 
fingers trembled. I thanked her, telling her that I 
knew the house perfectly well, for I had lived in it 
when I was a child. . . .With that she coughed in an 
odd manner and changed the subject . I already had 
a vague feeling that a trifling something had happened 
that was not entirely natural. When all is said, it may 
have been usual for the old lady’s hand to shake like 
that. She showed me into the drawing-room, where 
I found the two marchionesses and the little boy.” 

“How old is Cecily’s child?” asked Cheri-Bibi in 
a low voice. 

“Young Bernard must be six years old now,” an¬ 
swered the nun, who had not failed to observe the 
emotion which seized her convict brother whenever 
she mentioned Cecily’s name. “The child is very 
fond of me because I’ve rather spoilt him when I’ve 
had the opportunity.” 

“He’s like his mother, I suppose?” questioned 
Cheri-Bibi fiercely. 

“No, he is not a bit like his mother; he is almost 
dark, while she is fair.” 

“Hang it all, he’s like his father,” snarled Cheri- 
Bibi, clenching his fists. 




206 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Well, no; he isn’t like his father either. He 
hasn’t got his father’s heavy and rough manner or 
anything that resembles him in the slightest degree.” 

“Come, that’s a good thing. It would have been 
a pity had he taken after his father. It was the color 
of his hair which made you say he wasn’t like his 
mother, but he will be like her later on, you’ll see. 
. . . At all events; I hope the poor little chap will be 
like her. ... Go on. I’m listening.” 

“Old Rose sat down with us in the drawing-room, 
busying herself with her needlework and not saying 
a word. Nevertheless I felt that she was looking at 
me all the while. Why was she staring at me like 
that? We talked about the poor children, about 
Christmas, about the treat that we were preparing at 
the hospital, and, of course, the ladies promised me 
their assistance, and slipped a little money into my 
hand. I wanted to take my leave, but they would 
not allow me to go owing to the weather, for the snow 
was falling in great flakes. The wind, too, had risen. 
You can imagine the battle of the elements on the 
cliff. I saw that I must be sensible, and I stayed to 
dinner with the ladies, hoping that after dinner I 
might get back to Dieppe. But nothing of the sort. 
There was a regular storm. They had no conveyance 
at the villa at that time. They kept me for the night 
after sending their manservant, Jacquart, whom you 
knew, to inform the hospital that they need not expect 
me. After dinner we returned to the drawing-room, 
and the Dowager Marchioness, thinking to please me, 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


207 


recalled the days when as a child I lived in the villa 
with our parents. She spoke of me, but she took care 
not to speak of you.” 

“Of course,” agreed Cheri-Bibi with a gloomy look. 
“Go on.” 

“And yet for a moment she let herself go over the 
recollection of a fishing party, on the beach, when 
you were quite a kid, and saved from drowning a 
child who was bathing. Do you remember?” 

“No . . . I’ve forgotten my good deeds . . . 
they would embarrass me,” growled Cheri-Bibi with 
a still more gloomy air. 

“The Dowager Marchioness allowed herself to men¬ 
tion your name. . . . And then a silence fell. . . . 
We remained there, the four of us, without uttering 
a word.” 

“Yes, my name created a slight sensation. In¬ 
cidentally, the Marchioness was a blunderer. . . . 
What then?” 

“I ... I felt as though I were choking . . . and 
I had nothing to say. ... I could not speak a word. 
. . . The two others . . .” 

“Yes, the two others were thinking: one of them 
that I had murdered her husband, and the other that 
I had murdered her father. What a delightful party! 
And you, Jacqueline, for your part, were entitled to 
consider that Cecily’s father was the worst of black¬ 
guards. It was difficult to carry on a conversation in 
such circumstances. . . . You all three felt that you 
were the victims of the monster man. ... Go on.” 




208 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“I seemed to be about to choke, and I began to cry 
wildly, unable to keep back great sobs. Then they 
were on their feet, the two Marchionesses who were 
also weeping, and kissed me affectionately, and little 
Bernard, who did not know what to make of it all, 
came over and kissed me too.” 

“What was Rose doing during that time?” asked 
Cheri-Bibi bluntly. 

“She did not kiss me, but she shook my hand in 
a very queer manner. She herself was trembling 
more than ever. She semed to be shivering with the 
cold; her face was exceedingly white; and she stared 
at me with an extraordinary look in her eyes. Her 
lips, too, were bloodless as she said: ‘Poor Sister 
St. Mary of the Angels. Poor little Jacqueline!’ That 
was the most peculiar thing of all, for we did not 
know ea^ch other. At least we scarcely ever met in the 
old days. Then why did she say, ‘Poor little Jacque¬ 
line!’ What did it mean? There was almost a hag¬ 
gard look about her. Besides, she wanted to leave 
us at once, on the pretense that she was feeling cold 
and not quite well. Cecily said to her: 

“ ‘Would you like me to send anything up to you? 
Shall I go with you?’ 

“ ‘No, no,’ she replied hastily. ‘I don’t want any¬ 
thing. I’ll go and lie down. Good night, Mesdames.’ 
And she left the room, closing the door quickly be¬ 
hind her. It was as though she had fled. 

“ ‘She’s down in the dumps again,’ said the Dow¬ 
ager Marchioness. ‘She didn’t used to be like that, so 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


209 


odd and silent all of a sudden that one can’t get two 
words out of her in the twenty-four hours. At one 
time she was liveliness itself and loved to make me 
laugh. One would imagine that she suffered from 
some nervous complaint which comes and goes with¬ 
out our knowing the reason why.’ 

46 T have often noticed that Rose was not quite 
natural,’ said Cecily. ‘How long has she been like 
that?’ 

“ ‘Oh, for many years,’ replied the Marchioness 
evasively. 

“They were silent before me. Obviously my pres¬ 
ence prevented them from continuing the conversa¬ 
tion. As a matter of fact Rose’s curious mannerism 
must have dated back to the time when troubles fell 
on the country.” 

“Say rather from the time when I began my crimes; 
it would be simpler,” said Cheri-Bibi. . . . “After¬ 
wards? . . .” 

“Afterwards we said good night, and they gave me 
a room next to Rose’s. I heard her moving about dur¬ 
ing the night. She was walking up and down, and 
occasionally talking to herself, but I could not catch 
what she said. I also heard her heave deep sighs. I 
was greatly perplexed, as you may readily imagine. 
Nevertheless, worn out by fatigue, I fell asleep about 
two o’clock in the morning, and suddenly I was roused 
by my door being carefully opened. 

“ ‘Who’s there?’ I cried. 

“ ‘Hush. . . . Don’t make a noise, it’s I,’ said 




210 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


Rose. And she appeared before me whiter than a 
ghost. 

“After closing the door she stepped up to me like 
a shadow, knelt at the foot of the bed, and shaking 
in the peculiar manner that had perturbed me before, 
took my hand in hers as she had done in the garden 
and drawing-room, and repeated: 

“ ‘Poor little Jacqueline!’ And this time she 
added: ‘Poor Cheri-Bibi!’ ” 

“What! She said that. . . . She really said that? 
‘Poor Cheri-Bibi!’ ” 

“Yes, that’s what she said. . . . She spoke as one 
in a dream.” 

“Anyway, she said it. Therefore she had good' 
reasons for saying it,” declared the convict with a 
catch in his breath. “Rose must know everything; 
that’s a certainty. Go ahead, be quick.” 

Cheri-Bibi placed another spoonful of the draught 
between his sister’s lips in order to give her renewed 
strength. The spoon shook in his hand. 

“Yes, she knows everything. She confessed as 
much. She said, ‘Poor Jacqueline, your brother was 
innocent. . . . ’Twas not he who killed the Marquis. 
It was some one else . . . some one else . . 

“Thereupon, as she repeated in increasingly 
stronger and even frenzied tones ‘it was some one else,’ 
her eyes dilated as though she saw that other person. 

. . . And she had a fit of hysteria. The ladies has¬ 
tened in. We thought it was all over with her. But 




BROTHER AND SISTER 


211 




then she grew silent, and clenched her teeth to prevent 
a word from escaping her.” 

“It is very unfortunate that she had that attack,” 
muttered Cheri-Bibi. 

“Yes, it was indeed unfortunate, for I’ve always 
believed that she came to me that night to tell me the 
truth; at least the truth as she knew it; whereas next 
day she was herself again, and nothing more was said. 
In fact she affected not to understand me when I tried 
to reopen the conversation. But as you may well be¬ 
lieve, I did not let her off. I endeavored several 
times to see her. Once when I met her in church and 
begged her, before God, to explain herself, she asked 
me ‘to be patient; the time would come, but the time 
was in God’s hands; she would do nothing to hasten 
it, and it would be wicked for me, as well as for her, 
even to wish for that time to come immediately.’ Then 
she said: ‘Don’t speak to me of such things; forget 
what I said if you wish to avoid a terrible catas¬ 
trophe.’ ” 

“Yes, but meanwhile I was hunted like a wild 
beast and taken back to penal servitude.” 

“That’s exactly what I told her. She replied that 
you would probably be the first to wish her to keep 
silent.” 

“It’s a bit too thick,” exclaimed Cheri-Bibi. “What 
can the whole thing mean? Rose no longer knew 
what she was talking about, that’s evident.” 

“It was the last conversation I had with her. We 
were in the church square. Suddenly I saw her turn 




212 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


pale as she had done on the first night. She bowed 
to two persons who went past whom I did not at first 
notice. She left me abruptly. I have never seen her 
since. In the street I met the two persons who had 
passed us; they were Cecily and M. Georges de Pont- 
Marie. 

66 ‘Rose is still a little strange in her manner,’ said 
the young Marchioness. 

“ ‘Yes, a little,’ I replied, somewhat vaguely. 

“Then M. de Pont-Marie added: ‘Personally, I’ve 
always had the impression that she was cracked.’ 

“You see, Cheri-Bibi, I am telling you everything 
that can interest you, and everything that I know. I 
declare before God, who hears us, that I know nothing 
more, not a scrap more.” 

“How is it that Cecily and M. de Pont-Marie were 
out together? Are they on friendly terms?” 

“As you are aware, M. de Pont-Marie has been her 
brother’s and the Marquis’s friend for a long time. 
He knew Cecily when she was a child. He was taking 
her out for a little change. Besides, M. de Pont- 
Marie has much improved during the last few years. 
He is a reformed character. He has given the go-by 
to the Marquis, who at the present time is cruising in 
his yacht, the Belle of Dieppe , in South American 
waters.” 

At that moment a knock came at the cabin door, 
and Little Buddha’s voice was heard. 

“Captain, the look-out man signals castaways on 
our starboard bow.” 




CHAPTER IX 


FATALITAS 

Cheri-Bibi went on deck at the moment when the 
Top, promoted to the rank of chief helmsman, was 
receiving instructions from one of the old crew who 
had been forced to serve as helmsman, and was shout¬ 
ing to the man at the wheel: 

“Hard a starboard. . . . Give way. . . 

The chief engineer at the same time gave orders in 
the engine room: 

“Ease her. . . . Three-quarter speed.” 

A number of inquisitive persons had already 
crowded on deck. Cheri-Bibi burst through them with 
scant ceremony and in three bounds was on the bridge 
yelling: 

“What do I care about shipwrecked sailors? Aren’t 
there enough people in the cages?” 

He asked for a telescope and levelled it on a white 
object, a long-boat which could now be seen very dis¬ 
tinctly on the calm blue sea. The weather was superb 
and was rendered all the more perfect by a hot sun 
which was pouring down on the poor survivors in the 
frail boat, perhaps stricken with thirst. The boat was 
at most three cable-lengths away, less than a third of 

213 


214 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


a mile ahead, and the Bayard was rapidly nearing 
her. 

Cheri-Bibi had his eye fixed to the telescope. 

“Fatalitas” The word suddenly slipped out, to 
the astonishment of his officers, who were standing by. 
What had the Captain discovered through the glass? 

Cheri-Bibi was no longer using it. He looked up 
quite pale, muttering incoherent words. 

Then he placed the telescope in the field of vision 
again, glued his eye to it, kept it there for a while, 
and this time looked up with glowing cheeks. There 
was no mistake about it. Cheri-Bibi was in a state 
of high glee. 

“E atalitas,” he repeated, “but it is all to the good.” 
Fate, it was obvious, was continuing to play tricks 
with him, but it would appear that on this occasion 
he was by no means dissatisfied. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we are going to the assist¬ 
ance of those poor shipwrecked sailors.” 

Standing around him were the Toper, his lieuten¬ 
ant, the Dodger, his sub-lieutenant, the Top, Little 
Buddha and the “principal” erstwhile members of 
his cage. 

“Get your men together,” he said, “all of them, and 
tell them that fortune favors us by sending us ship¬ 
wrecked persons whom, I hope, we may turn to good 
account. It’s a matter that concerns me. But for the 
time being my order is for each one of you to re¬ 
member his rank and new position. Let there be no 




FATALITAS 


215 


blunders. No change has occurred on board the 
Bayard since she left the lie de Re, nothing except a 
grave mutiny among the convicts, who were eventually 
brought to book and are again in their cages. I am 
more than ever Captain Barrachon. As to Captain 
Barrachon, he is Cheri-Bibi.” 

The staff burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Laugh to your heart’s content,” said Cheri-Bibi, 
“for presently you will have to be serious. Do you 
follow me? Well, let every one bear this in mind: I 
will hang, with short shrift, the first man who doesn’t 
behave himself properly. You can take my word for 
it.” 

They needed no second warning. They quickly left 
the bridge, and soon the bugle rang out on deck. 
When the crew received the word of command there 
was an indescribable feeling of elation. It was an 
unexpected interlude which the convicts greatly en¬ 
joyed. Only fancy, women were in the boat, and they 
would show them how they bore themselves in uni¬ 
form, and that convicts could be smart enough when 
the occasion offered. They were immensely grateful 
to Cheri-Bibi for devising this new farce which prom¬ 
ised to afford them a delightful entertainment. The 
ascendancy which the new Captain exercised over this 
confraternity of thieves was enormously enhanced 
by it. 

At all events here was a chief who knew how to 




216 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


laugh, and understood life. No one was likely to 
be dull with him in command. 

Matters were arranged in accordance with Cheri- 
Bibi’s instructions. The Bayard gradually drew near 
the boat, whence could be heard exclamations of joy, 
shouts of “bravo,” and enthusiastic salutations. It 
was noticed that ten persons were in her: seven pas¬ 
sengers and three sailors. A piece of linen fastened 
to one end of an oar was used as a signal. 

The convicts were particularly delighted that three 
women passengers were in the boat, and, indeed, they 
appeared to be very attractive women. 

“Oh, lovely women!” exclaimed Little Buddha, 
whose enthusiasm received a check when the Toper 
gave him a sound kick to remind him that he must 
be on his best behavior. 

Oddly enough the survivors seemed by no means 
to be starving or unduly exhausted. Nor did they 
have the haggard look of persons who have just es¬ 
caped a watery grave. 

The women, for instance, were well and full of 
spirits, and dressed in good taste, their heads elegantly 
covered with wraps; and they looked just as they 
might have looked after a pleasant row on a lake. 

Standing upright among the survivors was a tall, 
powerful, broad-shouldered man; one of those per¬ 
sons who, as it were, displace a considerable amount 
of atmosphere when they move. His full face and 
ruddy complexion, which was not devoid of a sug- 





FATALITAS 


217 


gestion of aristocracy owing to the shape of his nose, 
which was the Bourbon nose, seemed to be that of a 
country squire and sportsman. Above his blue eyes 
were bushy brows, auburn in color, which lent some 
degree of hardness to a countenance whose heavy out¬ 
line might otherwise have indicated good-nature. 

Cheri-Bibi, leaning on the bridge, kept his eyes fixed 
on him. And if the entire crew of bandits had not 
likewise been watching the boat, they would have 
been astonished to see the singularly fierce look which 
overspread Cheri-Bibi’s face while the Bayard crept 
nearer the survivors. His jaws were thrust out in 
menace, and he hissed between his clenched teeth the 
name “Maxime du Touchais!” 

Cheri-Bibi drew himself up, mastering the excite¬ 
ment which impelled him straightway to rush at the 
throat of the man who had been, and who still was, 
the torturer of her whom he loved best in the world; 
of Cecily, the ideal being who had never ceased to 
shine through the blood-stained mystery of his life. 
. . . And he repressed the emotion which moved him 
to cry aloud with joy at the thought of the revenge 
that was so near . . . Cecily’s husband! 

“It’s my sister’s God who has sent this man to me 
for punishment as he might have sent him to the 
devil.” 

How he hated him, this handsome gentleman, who 
had the right to go near his idol while he had never 
dared look at her but from afar, nor speak to her 




218 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


in the glad days of his youth but with lowered head 
and trembling voice. . . . 

How he hated him when he thought that this man 
had held her in his arms and made her suffer. . . . 

Cheri-Bibi grinned as the demons in the depths of 
Dante’s Inferno grinned. . . . And he strode towards 
the guests whose arrival was so opportune. 

He was completely himself now in his new part as 
Captain of the ship. He ordered the accommodation 
ladder to be set up, and here he waited for his guests 
who were climbing out of the boat with the assistance 
of his men. The first man to step on to the accom¬ 
modation ladder wrested from Cheri-Bibi the muffled 
exclamation: “Robert Bourrelier!” 

So Fate had delivered the entire family into his 
hands! 

He started back. 

He seemed less satisfied this time. Not only had 
he no cause of quarrel with Cecily’s brother, but the 
fact that he was her brother would, in itself, prevent 
him from entertaining any evil intentions towards him. 
His chief fear now was lest he should be recognized by 
him. 

He had no cause for apprehension as far as Maxime 
du Touchais was concerned, for it was certain that 
the Marquis had never cast a glance at the humble 
butcher’s boy from Le Pollet. Robert Bourrelier, on 
the other hand, used to spend some weeks of his holi¬ 
days in Puys with his parents, and might well have 





FATALITAS 


219 


retained some recollection of the “gardener’s young¬ 
ster.” 

Cheri-Bibi took courage again when, not without 
reason, he reflected that he had greatly changed since 
those days, and that the amazing ups and downs of 
his anything but commonplace life had endowed him 
with a different physiognomy. In any event the ex¬ 
periment was one which he ought to make. 

He had to reckon on the publicity which the great 
daily papers had thrust upon his alarming personality 
during his crimes; but in that regard he had been 
assisted by the poor quality of the photographs, and 
the indifferent character of the reproductions used by 
the newspapers to make his image known to a terrified 
world. Moreover, the newspapers had pictured a very 
ugly person, a sort of composite photograph of ugli¬ 
ness, and they had grossly exaggerated, for the pur¬ 
pose of selling their papers, the general brutality of 
his appearance. It was he and yet it was not quite he. 
There were moments, moments of crises and moments 
of violent passion, when it was perhaps he, but it was 
not he at moments of happiness such as he experienced 
then when, with the rank of Captain in the navy, he 
was preparing to extend hospitality to the person 
whom he hated most in the world after the man in 
the gray hat. 

But the die was cast. Robert Bourrelier appeared 
in the gangway. 

Cheri-Bibi played his game with perfect assurance. 




220 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a pomposity 
which was slightly ludicrous, “I am very pleased to 
see you on board my ship.” And he held out his hand 
to Cecily’s brother, who shook it with an unmistakable 
expression of gratitude. 

Robert Bourrelier seemed to have suffered from 
the strain more than any of the others. The health of 
this tall, gawky young man was obviously precarious, 
and the dissipated life which he had led from the 
days of his early manhood clearly marked him down 
for an early grave. 

“Anyway,” thought Cheri-Bibi, “the Marquis won’t 
have to wait very long for his inheritance.” 

He was quite content with the experiment. Robert 
had not started in surprise. And then, of course, how 
could he possibly dream of meeting the terrible Cheri- 
Bibi in the uniform of this friendly Captain in the 
French navy? 

Next the ladies came on deck, and then Maxima 
du Touchais, followed by the rest of the survivors. 

Before the Captain could say another word of wel¬ 
come the Marquis, waiving aside all offers of help of 
which the newcomers did not appear to be in any 
urgent need, placed the officers of the Bayard in pos¬ 
session of the facts of the disaster. 

They were the victims of the recent storm which had 
wellnigh proved fatal to the Bayard. The Marquis 
and his guests were returning from Buenos Ayres to 
France in the Belle of Dieppe when at two o’clock in 





FATALITAS 


221 


the morning, during a tremendous gale, the yacht, 
which answered her helm only with great difficulty, 
came into collision with a ship which she must have 
seriously damaged. The storm, which continued to 
increase, tore asunder the two ships as swiftly as it 
had caused them to collide, and in the darkness they 
soon lost sight of the other vessel. 

The Belle of Dieppe was in evil case for there was 
a large rent in the bows and an inrush of water against 
which it was impossible to battle. The forward part 
was already sinking slowly beneath the waves. Max- 
ime ordered the boats to be lowered. Fortunately 
these were numerous enough to carry all the crew and 
the few passengers who leapt into them in spite of the 
raging sea. 

But death seemed as certain and as near in those 
frail craft as on the yacht. The Marquis, seeing things 
as they were, refused at the last moment to leave the 
vessel, stating that if it came to a choice of deaths he 
preferred to die comfortably in one of the Belle of 
Dieppe’s cabin. Several of his friends, the women 
especially, agreed with him, observing, moreover, that 
during the last few minutes the vessel had ceased its 
downward course into the abyss. Perhaps the water¬ 
tight bulkheads would hold. . . . Thus he and a few 
others remained behind while the boats disappeared 
into the murky night. 

The bulkheads did, in fact, hold. They held for 
three days, which was long enough for the great storm 




222 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


to subside, for the demoralized sea to become like an 
azure lake, for the sky to sweep away its dark clouds, 
and for the passengers who remained on board to 
prepare the two boats for the moment when they would 
of necessity have to abandon the Belle of Dieppe; an 
event which occurred scarcely two hours earlier in 
a perfectly calm sea and without the shadow of 
anxiety, for the Marquis knew that they were near 
the route followed by the great liners sailing to the 
Antilles or South America. 

The Belle of Dieppe vanished beneath the waves, 
strewing the sea with wreckage which before long 
they saw. There was no trace of the other boats, 
whose fate must have already been sealed, for either 
they had perished or been picked up as the long-boat 
was picked up with Maxime du Touchais and his 
companions. That was all. 

Thereupon the Marquis introduced them. 

He began with the ladies. First came Mile. Nadege 
de Valrieu, a tall, handsome, but rather stout blonde 
who must have been known by hearsay to the Captain 
and his officers because her talents as an actress, 
although she was still young, had brought her fame 
in both hemispheres. Then came Mile. Carmen de 
Fontainebleau, who was young and dark and lively, 
and was already addressing her smiles to the crew. 
She was the celebrated aesthetique dancer who had 
achieved renown in her “love waltzes.” The third 
lady was of elegant and distinguished appearance. 





FATALITAS 


223 


though her manner of gazing at people and things 
through her lorgnette had more than a suggestion of 
haughtiness about it. She was Madame d’Artigues, 
a literary star, and was accompanied by her husband, 
a brilliant society journalist and dramatic critic, well 
known in the Paris press under the pseudonym of 
Charles des Premieres. Then came M. Robert Bour- 

4 

relier, and finally Baron Proskof, a Polish nobleman, 
who was married to “the most beautiful woman in 
Paris,” but who could no longer boast of that distinc¬ 
tion inasmuch as the dear Baroness had insisted on 
embarking in one of the small boats, too frail to fight 
against the tumultuous seas. 

“The Baron is very much upset and so am I,” con¬ 
cluded Maxime du Touchais. 

The freedom with which the Marquis spoke of the 
poor Baroness, who was certainly no more, and to 
whom he had paid considerable court, if gossip in 
Dieppe could be believed, was repugnant to Cheri- 
Bibi, who always had a sense of family life. 

Cheri-Bibi did not take long, on his side, in his 
introductions. He pointed to the officers and crew 
as a whole and declared in a rasping voice that they 
on board the Bayard were glad to show hospitality to 
such agreeable guests. He did not for the time being 
enter into any further particulars. 

Du Touchais and Bourrelier imagined, from a first 
glance, that they had been picked up by a troopship, 
the Captain of which was a worthy man somewhat 




224 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


lacking in polish. As a matter of fact the sight of 
Cheri-Bibi trying his hand at politeness was a remark¬ 
able one. The word “agreeable” coming from him 
contrasted strangely with the ugly grimace of his 
mouth and the amazing smile which he assumed for 
the benefit of the ladies. 

His manner of being amiable, or of wishing to 
appear so, was so brusque that the ladies could not 
refrain from smiling. Cheri-Bibi noticed the smile, 
and it wounded him in his innermost self, for he was 
not without a considerable amount of self-esteem as 
the phrase goes. 

The Marquis, observing that he turned scarlet and 
made a wry face, realized that he had to deal with 
a “touchy sea-dog.” He determined to put him at 
ease, and he gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. 

“Captain,” he said with a great affectation of cor¬ 
diality, “we are sworn friends to the death. You were 
our last hope. . . . The Marquis du Touchais never 
forgets!” And he shook him warmly by the hand. 

Cheri-Bibi remained passive while he rolled his 
small eyes in which there was a look that boded no 
good, and murmured aside: “Yes, old bluffer, to the 
death, as you say!” 

He determined to conduct the ladies to the best 
cabins, the occupants of which had been ordered to 
pack up and begone in five seconds; and overcoming 
his feelings of antipathy and hatred he was particu- 





FATALITAS 


225 


larly friendly towards Robert Bourrelier and Maxime 
du Touchais. 

As they crossed the deck the ladies were greatly 
surprised to perceive so many disabled sailors and 
soldiers, with such rough and resolute faces under 
their tam-o’-shanters and kepis , staring at them as 
they went past with an eager and fiery gaze. 

“Have you been fighting, Captain?” inquired the 
beautiful Madame d’Artigues. 

“You couldn’t have made a better guess, dear 
lady,” returned Cheri-Bibi. “We have been fighting. 
We’ve had a mutiny on board.” 

“Mutiny on board!” they exclaimed in one breath. 
. . . “Oh, tell us about it. . . . But how awful!” 

“Mutiny on hoard a troopship!” exclaimed the 
Marquis. “You don’t mean to say so. Isn’t there such 
a thing as discipline in our navy? . . . Obviously 
everything’s going to the dogs. I hope, Captain, you 
had no great difficulty in getting the better of the 
mutineers.” 

“Ugh! We had to shoot and hang a good few of 
them,” replied the Captain rather vaguely. 

“But what you tell us is very funny,” cried the 
charming Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau. “A ship¬ 
wreck ... a mutiny on boardship. . . . What a 
succession of adventures!” 

“Well, we shall have plenty to talk about when 
we get back to France,” said Mile. Nadege de Valrieu. 




226 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The entire French nobility would seem to have met 
on board the Bayard . 

44 We shan’t be in France yet a while,” Cheri-Bibi 
thought it well to observe. 

“Where are we making for then?” 

44 Yjes, by the way, where are you landing us, Cap¬ 
tain?” 

44 In Cayenne, ladies and gentlemen, at your 
service.” 

“Cayenne? Are you bound for Cayenne?” 

“Why, yes, Marquis, with a shipload of criminals, 
scamps of convicts, and we’ve had our work cut out 
with them, I assure you.” 

“Convicts! Oh, good gracious!” exclaimed the 
ladies, more and more interested. “Where are they? 
They can’t do us any harm, can they?” 

“Don’t be alarmed. We’ve got a tight hold of them 
now. They’re not allowed out of their cages. The 
first one who budged . . . we’d smash his jaw . . . 
I beg your pardon . . . saving your presence.” 

“Well done, Captain. . . . We’re too easy going 
with that sort of game. Ought we to be saddled with 
such villains? I bet you that half the men in the 
cages would be guillotined under a proper govern¬ 
ment.” 

“Half of them at least,” said Cheri-Bibi, “to say 
nothing of Cheri-Bibi, who is here.” 

“What do you say? . . . Cheri-Bibi . . . Cheri- 
Bibi on board! ... Is it a fact, Captain, that you 




FATALITAS 


227 


have Cheri-Bibi with you? Oh, what a piece of luck! 
Let’s have a look at him at once.” 

At that moment the men were bringing up the 
baggage belonging to the survivors, and Cheri-Bibi 
turned round. He felt as though he were being 
scorched by a look, and he saw the Countess standing 
in front of him. At first he did not recognize this 
refined, elegant and graceful looking woman who was 
attired in a perfectly fashionable traveling costume 
made by a first-rate ladies’ tailor. It was a present 
which he himself had given her that very morning as 
an acknowledgment of her services in helping him to 
escape, and, later, during the stress of the fight. 

In his wanderings through the holds Cheri-Bibi had 
ripped open a large case intended for society ladies 
in Cayenne, the wives of the officials, and he found 
in it a great selection of finery—costumes, dresses, 
underlinen. He gave the whole of the contents to the 
Countess there and then. “Now we are quits,” he 
thought. “She won’t worry me any more.” He was 
mistaken, for the Countess appreciated the gift only in 
so far as those adornments could make her more 
beautiful in Cheri-Bibi’s eyes. 

She was another person who was in love with him, 
excited by his fame; and he had been forced to repulse 
her in the darkness of the store-rooms. . . . The 
Countess had not lost sight of him since the long-boat 
was signaled; and she was a witness of his agitation, 




228 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


his restlessness, and finally of the malicious delight 
which inwardly possessed him. 

It was obvious that he knew the survivors. At first 
she imagined that he was interested in the ladies, and 
she showed her claws as if she would tear their eyes 
out. But she soon realized that his main concern was 
with the Marquis du Touchais. What was the connec¬ 
tion between those two men? She made up her mind 
to know the truth before long. 

“My dear Captain,” said the Countess in a voice 
of peculiar sweetness which was new to him, “I am 
told that you have given my cabin to these ladies. 
Allow me to say that I am very pleased to hear it. 
It’s the best cabin in the ship.” 

The ladies uttered a general protest. Was it true? 
They wouldn’t hear of it. How could they think of 
such a thing. . . . They had no wish to disturb any 
one. And so on and so forth. 

“Let me introduce you to the Countess,” said Cheri- 
Bibi, playing the gentleman. 

The ladies flocked round to press her hand. The 
Countess! So there was a countess on board. The 
Countess of what? They dared not put the question. 
They regarded the introduction as somewhat lacking 
in detail, and Maxime du Touchais and Robert Bour- 
relier turned away from Cheri-Bibi to hide a smile. 
Oh, these old sea-dogs did not waste overmuch time 
in polite phrases, nor care a rap for forms and cere¬ 
monies. . . . Here’s the Countess. Good morning. 





FATALITAS 


229 


. . . Good evening. Would that do? And, in truth, 
it was enough for them. Besides, she seemed very 
ladylike did the Countess. Nevertheless, Cheri-Bibi, 
after a moment’s reflection, thought it well to add 
that she was going out to her husband in Brazil. 

“Did you see the mutiny, Countess?” asked Mile* 
Carmen de Fontainebleau. 

“As plainly I see you now,” replied the Countess 
in her best society manner. 

It was she who wished to proceed with the accom¬ 
modation of her new friends. She proved so gracious 
and charming and kind that they were captivated by 
her on the spot. She placed her entire wardrobe at 
their disposal; and they did not conceal their satis¬ 
faction, for they had been able to bring with them in 
the long-boat only the strictest necessities. They were 
filled with admiration for the luxurious manner in 
which the Countess was equipped. 

They dressed themselves for lunch, which was de¬ 
layed an hour at their request, and entered the Cap¬ 
tain’s dining-room “arrayed in all their glory.” 

Meanwhile the men had strolled round the deck. 
They came back in a state of astonishment, having 
observed a number of things that would help them to 
keep the conversation alive. Lunch, which was pre¬ 
sided over by Cheri-Bibi, was transformed into a 
great banquet to which the officers were invited, and 
at which room had to be found for the “principal 
persons who distinguished themselves in the recent 





230 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


fighting.” They had begged the Captain to grant them 
that honor for once. They were not all wearing 
officers’ uniform, but men, like Little Buddha, who 
were dressed as ordinary seamen or petty officers, 
were placed at small tables—“to reward them for 
their good conduct,” as Cheri-Bibi explained. They 
were satisfied as long as they could see and hear and 
admire the ladies. 

The Captain, who was fully aware of the dangerous 
frame of mind into which the crew had been thrown 
by the arrival of these society ladies on board, had 
succeeded, for the time being, in calming their ex¬ 
citement by letting them know that the ladies would be 
present at the festivity which was in preparation for 
that evening, and that if they behaved themselves he 
would allow the ladies to dance with them. He took 
the opportunity of informing them that if they failed 
to conduct themselves properly they would have him 
to reckon with. 

The Dodger himself kept an eye on the various 
dishes, and looked after, in particular, the cod with 
tomato sauce flavored with herbs of which Cheri- 
Bibi was very fond. The Top, who had an excellent 
hand, wrote out several copies of the menu. The en¬ 
tire company were in good humor and exceedingly 
hungry. Accordingly, to begin with, they did full 
justice to a savory and appetizing joint of beef. 

Cheri-Bibi ate very little, taking care that each man 
should have his share, and that the wines should flow 




FATALITAS 


231 


without stint. Moreover, he was not a little impressed 
by his new part as the host receiving his guests, and 
he had no wish to “put his foot in it” before his men, 
who were watching him with curiosity. Seated on one 
side of him was Madame d’Artigues and on the other 
Mile. Nadege de Valrieu, while facing him was the 
Countess. Maxime du Touchais was placed a little 
to the left, next to Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau, so 
that he had to lean forward to see him, for he had 
no wish to be embarrassed while he was eating. In 
this way he seemed to have postponed for the present 
any serious encounter with him. 

The meal had passed off quite well up to then. The 
Top, from the financiers’ cage, who knew something 
about the sort of people present, having robbed them 
to the advantage of high-class restaurants and night 
taverns, kept watch over the general arrangements of 
the lunch; that is to say, over its proper service. 

“This food is really delicious,” declared Mile. 
Nadege de Valrieu. 

“It’s a tip-top cut of chump of beef,” explained 
Cheri-Bibi. “Please do have some more.” 

She accepted another helping with such gusto that 
Cheri-Bibi, repelled by the young lady’s greediness, 
ended by observing to her that “no one was waiting 
for the table.” And he turned his attention to Madame 
d’Artigues, who was a perfect woman of the world 
and must have suffered greatly during the voyage 
from the presence of the younger ladies forced upon 




232 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


her by the Marquis’s whim. The Captain perceived 
that Madame d’Artigues was casting sheep’s eyes at 
the Marquis, while her husband was pretending not 
to be aware of the fact. Cheri-Bibi assumed that 
Madame d’Artigues was striving to take the place in 
the Marquis du Touchais’s heart, left vacant by the 
recent loss of the Baroness de Proskof, and that her 
husband would not be sorry to hand over his wife to 
this rich man if the latter were disposed to pay the 
price that he had paid for the Baroness. 

These mercenary calculations into the scene of 
which Cheri-Bibi’s fantastic destiny had thrown him, 
induced a feeling of small respect for “the privileged 
classes,” for whom, for that matter, he had always 
felt but scant admiration. He wanted, with the help 
of champagne, to forget present intrigues; to fly be¬ 
yond the seas and to dream of Cecily’s angelic face, 
of the virtuous wife and perfect mother devoted to 
the duties of her home. What would he not have given 
to see her seated by his side in preference to those 
perfumed dolls who had never known the meaning 
of the word virtue. 

“In the meantime, old chap, your wife is carrying 
on with some other . . .” 

The words burst like a thunderclap on Cheri-Bibi’s 
reverie. They were flung at the Marquis, in a burst 
of laughter, by the mistress of the lanky Robert, who 
at once requested Mile. Nadege de Valrieu to moder¬ 
ate her language. 





FATALITAS 


233 


Cheri-Bibi became as pale as a ghost. 

“It’s not true,” he cried. 

At once every eye was turned on him, and the 
guests exchanged glances; and then there was an out¬ 
burst of gayety. 

The Countess took up the running. 

“What did you say?” 

“I?” exclaimed Cheri-Bibi in a blank voice. “I 
... I didn’t say anything.” 

It seemed to him, in fact, that he had not spoken, 
but that it was some one else . . . some one else who 
uttered those words which he, like the rest of them, 
had caught. ... He did not enter into any further 
explanation. He was fiercely silent, feeling intensely 
that he could not be too silent successfully to master 
the rage which consumed him against the wretched 
creatures who had dared to insult his idol; against 
the baseness of the Marquis who had expressed no 
indignation, nor uttered even a protest, fully occupied 
as he was, doubtless, with the airs and graces of 
Madame d’Artigues; against the brother who had not 
struck down the hussy for speaking in such terms of 
his sister. 

The Countess interposed with wonderful cleverness 
and tact, and with the grace of a great lady whom 
nothing can disconcert and who utters the exact word 
that is needed in the most difficult situations. She paid 
a great compliment to Cheri-Bibi, to his rough exterior 
and his golden heart, his fine conscience and the many 




234 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


qualities which made of him a “veritable French 
knight-errant.” 

Never had she heard him speak ill of women, and 
he strained points of honor to such an extent that 
he would not allow others to speak ill of them in his 
presence. In truth the Countess was astonishing. She 
had amazed her fellow-prisoners by her command of 
the lowest form of speech, and now she was expressing 
herself “in society” with the utmost elegance. . . . 
Unfortunately her charming intervention on his be¬ 
half had no other effect than to turn the conversation 
on poor Cecily. 

“Well, be careful, for it won’t be long before she 
is carrying on with . . 

Nadege de Valrieu and Carmen de Fontainebleau 
were at one in hinting that M. de Pont-Marie’s assidui¬ 
ties in regard to the Marchioness du Touchais were 
self-interested. They knew him of old, that particular 
bird; and he would never have remained behind unless 
he had found something to interest him. 

“Well, between ourselves, he isn’t difficult to 
please,” ended Mile. Nadege de Valrieu, who, as the 
mistress of Cecily’s brother, could not endure the 
Bourrelier family. “The last time I saw her in 
Dieppe was when I was coming back from the races. 
She was wearing a hat! ... I fancy I see myself 
wearing one like it. . . .” 

Carmen added her quota. 

“Look here, she’s not so very plain.” 




FATALITAS 


235 


“You’re too funny when you talk like that,” said 
the Marquis, and he burst into laughter. 

Cheri-Bibi was suffering like a soul in pain, and 
such he was, but never from his earliest days had he 
borne such torment. His punishments as a convict 
were caresses on his thick skin compared with the 
searing of his soul at that moment, the soul of Cheri- 
Bibi. The Countess was startled by the sight of him. 
She feared for a while lest he should fall stone dead 
in the middle of the banquet. And then by slow de¬ 
grees his color returned . . . returned with a smile. 

“Very soon,” thought Cheri-Bibi, “very soon, Miles. 
Nadege and Carmen, I will hand you . . . you who 
are not so very plain . . . over to my men. And 
as to you, Maxime du Touchais, as to you, I shall 
have to think of something . . . think of something.” 

His eyes encountered the gaze of the Kanaka, who 
had not hitherto uttered a word, and he recalled the 
ugly story which ran through the cages about that 
peculiar individual. 

“Very soon I’ll hand you over to the tender mercies 
of the Kanaka.” 

That was the reason why Cheri-Bibi was now 
smiling. 




CHAPTER X 


A STROLL IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 

j 

From that moment Cheri-Bibi took the lead in the 
conversation and gave it a singularly sprightly turn. 
He entered with dash and spirit into a burlesque 
version of the mutiny of the convicts, and of the 
extraordinary adventures through which the crew had 
passed after Cheri-Bibi’s daring escape. He described 
the incidents in detail so well, in fact, that Cheri-Bibi 
himself could not have told the story with greater 
effect. Now he was expatiating on scenes of horror 
which sent a thrill through the ladies, and anon on 
scenes of comedy which were tremendously empha¬ 
sized by the boisterous laughter of his officers and 
crew who had “particularly distinguished themselves 
in the recent affair”; so that what the tragic vision 
conjured up by the Captain, and the disquieting mer¬ 
riment of most of the persons present, the ship¬ 
wrecked guests felt an indefinable dread steal over 
them which hampered their enjoyment. 

The champagne flowed like water, and the gaiety, 
which was almost general, increased in consequence 
until it became somewhat coarse. The officers es¬ 
pecially began to forget the reserve which is the tradi- 

236 


A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 237 


tion with Frenchmen in uniform, and, above all, in 
the presence of ladies. 

A certain lieutenant was at the table who alone 
made a considerable noise, and it was impossible to 
keep him quiet. 

“Will you hold your tongue, Toper?” 

So all those gentlemen had odd surnames—Little 
Buddha, the Top, and so forth—and flung them from 
one end of the table to the other with a familiarity 
which difference in rank in no way deterred. 

Baron Proskof, whose mind had been depressed by 
the loss of his beloved wife, roused himself from his 
lethargy to express to his friends by a bewildered 
look the astonishment that filled him on observing 
such laxity of manners in the French navy. 

Robert Bourrelier shook his head, and Maxime du 
Touchais coughed in a way that was understood by 
M. d’Artigues, who, as a journalist accustomed to 
move in official circles, could not refrain from whis¬ 
pering: 

“They’ve no idea of such things at the Ministry of 
the Navy.” 

These various movements were not lost on Cheri- 
Bibi, who accounted for the tone at the banquet by a 
good-humored sentence which secured the approval 
of the ladies. 

“We belong to one and the same family on board 
the Bayard .” 





238 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“It’s extraordinary,” said Madame d’Artigues, 
“what a resemblance there is between you all.” 

“No doubt that comes from the fact that you have 
as little hair on your heads as mushrooms,” said 
Mile. Nadege de Valrieu. 

“Or as convicts,” added Mile. Carmen de Fontaine¬ 
bleau, laughing heartily at what she considered to be 
an excellent joke. 

The last remark threw, as it were, a “wet blanket” 
over the company. A silence fell, during which the 
men looked at each other askance, and then Little 
Buddha slapped his thigh and exclaimed, “What a 
good joke!” whereupon a tremendous burst of 
laughter resounded through the Captain’s cabin. 

Cheri-Bibi, with his usual presence of mind, replied 
that if the officers and men had had their hair cut so 
short it was entirely because they wished “to show 
the convicts a good example.” 

“However many rings the Captain has,” exclaimed 
Carrots, “that doesn’t prevent him from being a jolly 
good fellow.” 

“Yes, yes,” they shouted, “a jolly good fellow.” 

“He certainly looks one,” agreed Carmen de 
Fontainebleau. 

“You are a jolly good fellow,” said Madame 
d’Artigues, “but what are ‘rings’?” 

“Rings,” replied Cheri-Bibi, without turning a 
hair, “are, in service slang, gold stripes. Don’t 
imagine, ladies and gentlemen, though I allow my 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 239 


men to treat me as the father of the family,” he 
thought it well to add, “that discipline is any the 
worst for it. I know my duty, and I can be terrible 
if needs be. Of course,” he went on in the most 
natural manner, “if I did not combine firmness with 
friendliness where should I be with a shipload like 
this? I put the question to you. And if you will 
allow me, I will answer it myself. After the revolt 
the other day it is we who would be in the cages at 
the present time!” 

A great outburst of cheering and shouts of hurrah 
greeted the Captain’s daring supposition. 

“Yes, that’s true,” agreed Mile. Carmen de 
Fontainebleau, “you can’t be joking all day long 
when you have convicts in your charge.” 

“But I say, the villains had to be in agreement in 
order to mutiny. They were in their cages and 
guarded. How was it possible for them to come to 
an understanding?” asked Madame d'Artigues. 

All eyes were fixed on Cheri-Bibi, who experi¬ 
enced a certain satisfaction as he observed the interest 
which seemed to be attached to his least word, and 
he took advantage of the opportunity to deliver to 
his guests a short dissertation on prison life. More¬ 
over, the importance of the subject inspired him not 
a little, and the turn of his phrases, without his 
suspecting it, partook slightly of the professional air 
characteristic of lecturers. 

“You do not know these men,” he said, laying 




240 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


stress upon his words, “or you would not be 
astonished at anything from that point of view. 
Nothing betrays the intimacy which exists between 
them. They may be lying on the same bench, but no 
movement or sign reveals that they know each 
other if, by chance, they have already met outside 
or in prison. They have a language of their own 
which it is impossible for others to understand. 

“In the position of their feet, in the natural gesture 
of their arms, in the direction of their look, there is 
a word, a dictionary, a complete language. This 
mute conversation escapes the observation, and the 
long experience, of the convict guard, the military 
overseer, and the cleverest chief himself; in a word, 
it escapes me. Nevertheless, some of my men and I 
have been able to discover a few words of this secret 
language. 

“We will make an experiment. Step forward. 
Little Buddha, and place yourself here. You, Carrots, 
go to the other end of the room. ... We have sailed 
together for so long that I don’t hesitate to call them 
by their nicknames. . . . There! ... Now begin. 
. . . Good. . . . Very good. . . . That’ll do. . . . 
Be quiet, you naughty boys!” 

“But they didn’t move,” exclaimed Madame 
d’Artigues. 

“You think so, Madame, but you are mistaken. 
From the manner in which Carrots raised his eye¬ 
brows and put his hands in his pocket, and by the 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 241 


position of his lower lip, and, on the other hand, by 
the position of Little Buddha’s feet, and the three 
changes in the direction of his glance, a complete 
conversation took place between the two men, but I 
won’t venture to repeat it.” 

“Oh, yes, please do, dear Captain, tell us what 
they said.” 

“Do you mean it?” said Cheri-Bibi to Madame 
d’Artigues, who was the most eager of them all. 
“You shall have your wish. In speaking of you in 
their own particular slang they said: ‘She is very 
sweet is the little lady; the big man, the Marquis, is 
making eyes at her, but the thin man, the husband, 
is watching them. We must take advantage of the 
quarrel presently to tell her that we’ve fallen in love 
with her.’ ” 

“Well done, well done. It’s marvelous,” 
exclaimed Mile, de Yalrieu. 

“Yes, and it’s true,” declared Mile. Carmen de 
Fontainebleau. 

“Madame, I offer you my apologies,” said Cheri- 
Bibi in his best style, turning to Madame d’Artigues; 
“but these gentlemen are not accustomed to the polite 
world, and are easily astonished by the sight of 
society at play.” 

“Not at all, it’s very amusing,” returned 
Madame d’Artigues with an affectation of pleasure. 
“And your conversation, my dear Captain, is most 
instructive.” 




242 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Eve lived among convicts for so many years, 
Madame.” 

“The whole thing is excellent,” said Robert 
Bourrelier; “the wretches understand each other. 
But how did they manage to get out of their cages? 
You told us that your Cheri-Bibi was in irons and 
guarded by two warders.” 

“Oh, Cheri-Bibi’s escape!” exclaimed the 
Captain. “I will explain that to you presently 
at the exact spot. Irons, fetters—these things don’t 
stop him. Cheri-Bibi himself, you understand, dis¬ 
closed to me a dozen ways at least of breaking fetters 
and of hiding from sight the bites made in them by 
file or chisel. And the convicts have as many files 
and chisels as they need. Cheri-Bibi gave me as a 
birthday present a basket in each twig of which was 
buried a saw which was practically invisible.” 

“Oh, tell us something more about Cheri-Bibi, 
Captain.” 

“Cheri-Bibi can force any lock or padlock with an 
ordinary brass wire,” said the Captain in a voice of 
pride. 

“But did you not suspect anything before the 
mutiny broke out?” asked Maxime du Touchais. 
“How was it possible for the secret to be so well 
kept? For, after all, is it not an extraordinary thing 
that among eight hundred convicts not one, not a 
single one, gave the others away?” 

The Captain swallowed a glass of champagne. 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 243 


“Blacklegs and informers are rare among us.” 

He at once comprehended from a sign from the 
Kanaka that he had committed a blunder. He went 
on to explain himself, stumbling somewhat in his 
speech. 

“I mean in our world, in the world that we have 
to guard, in the world of convicts in short. They 
crop up still from time to time. But the kind of brute 
who betrays his comrades is tending more and more 
to disappear. 

“You may take it that vengeance is swift and 
terrible. If the informer lives in the cages, he is 
found dead one morning, and the cleverest doctor is 
unable to discover the cause of his sudden disease. 
If he lives in Cayenne, an immense pile of wood gives 
way, apparently from some lack of intelligence on the 
part of the workers, and when the ground is cleared 
a corpse is picked up. 

“Sometimes when the sea is rough, when a large 
ship’s boat on fatigue duty is battling with the waves, 
a man disappears into the deep. Was it an accident 
due to inexperience? No. It was a punishment 
inflicted upon an informer. The convict gang, ladies 
and gentlemen, has its bench of judges which pro¬ 
nounces its sentences with due regard to justice, and 
those judges have their scale of penalties. If the 
offense against a man’s comrades is a light one, the 
verdict may discover ‘extenuating circumstances,’ 
but in any event if the finding does not, entail the 




244 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


death penalty it implies the men’s contempt. The 
man who is convicted loses the respect of his 
comrades. 

“The respect of his comrades is the most valuable 
asset that a convict can possess. There are various 
degrees of respect. God knows how onerous the 
conditions are which have to be satisfied before he can 
reach the highest point. But though it is not given 
to everyone to attain the highest point by brilliant 
exploits, each prisoner does his utmost to take his 
place and to maintain it worthily. He knows that at 
the bottom of the scale, as I was saying just now, the 
word ‘contempt’ is written; and more than one 
convict has proved that he preferred death to that 
particular word.” 

“But it seems to me, Captain, heaven forgive 
me for saying so, that you have an admiration for 
them,” interposed the beautiful Madame d’Artigues 
with a suggestion of alarm in her voice. 

“I ... I admire them!” protested Cheri-Bibi 
with an innocent look. “Say rather that I pity them. 
Cheri-Bibi himself is to be pitied, believe me. I 
have had long conversations with that curious and 
unfortunate individual. I can assure you that he was 
not born into this world to terrorize it. Circum¬ 
stances and men have involved him in a sort of deadly 
game of chance. Oh, it’s an easy matter when one’s 
reputation is beyond the abyss of evil to lecture and 
give good advice to those who are unfortunate. But 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 245 


we must not forget that fate lies in wait ready to 
strike the blow. To have good luck or not to have 
good luck. I don’t say that everything turns on 
that, but I do say that nearly everything turns on it. 
To be or not to be, that is the question. Fatalitas, 
Fatalitas cried the amazing Cheri-Bibi in a lyrical 
outburst in which English and Latin were mingled. 
“0 Fate . . . Fate, must you associate this just 
man with the vilest of mortals? Nothing is more 
demoralizing in all things than the society of the 
wicked; the fruit thereof is bitterness. It is a field of 
misery, and the harvest is death. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise to you most 
sincerely. I hardly know what I am saying,” 
confessed Cecily’s admirer, wiping the tears that 
sprang to his eyes. “I fancy that I’ve had a glass 
of champagne too much. Come, let us take the air 
on deck. Afterwards we will have a little stroll in 
the Zoological Cardens.” 

The entire party rose from the table in a 
peculiar state of mind. The Captain’s agitation 
had impressed the company at this extraordinary 
banquet in different ways. The convicts remembered 
that many of them had always claimed Cheri-Bibi as 
“an innocent victim” in the first instance. As to 
the shipwrecked guests, they felt some difficulty in 
accounting for the old sea-dog’s emotion when he 
spoke of the monster Cheri-Bibi. 




246 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“He was weeping,” said Madame d’Artigues in an 
undertone. “Does it not look as if he liked him?” 

“As a brother,” exclaimed Cheri-Bibi, who over¬ 
heard the remark. 

“What’s that? . . . What did he say?” 

“Nothing, Madame,” said the Toper. “Can’t 
you see that he is soaked?” 

“The worthy Captain is quite drunk,” said Robert 
Bourrelier. 

“He is not so tipsy perhaps as he looks,” said 
Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau to Mile. Nadege de 
Valrieu. “From what I can gather, this Cheri-Bibi 
is an amazing person, and in spite of his ugliness 
possesses an irresistible attraction. He seems to have 
bewitched this poor man, who does not look as if he 
had a very strong head on his shoulders.” 

“The thing that impressed me most in what he 
said,” observed Mile. Nadege de Valrieu, “was that 
the convicts have a dozen ways of escaping from their 
cages. That’s not very comforting for us, and we’re 
not absolutely safe here.” 

“You may be right,” replied Mile. Carmen de 
Fontainebleau. “The unfortunate part is that I 
don’t see where we could take refuge. Say what you 
like, I am far from being easy in my mind. Those 
men alarm me with their stories of convicts. I don’t 
say it in disparagement; I state the plain truth: they 
have the faces of convicts themselves. ... So we’re 
going to see Cheri-Bibi, my dear Captain,” she said 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 247 


to him as he passed her, lurching slightly against the 
persons round him. 

“Come with me,” he invited. 

When they reached the ladder leading to the 
galleys, he stopped them to point out the store-room, 
and the traces of the fight which Cheri-Bibi had kept 
up there. 

“You see, we were here,” he explained, “and he 
was over there taking pot shots at us. You should 
have seen it! I must admit that he’s a plucky fellow. 
We were more than a hundred to one against him. 
There was no getting near him. He leapt from one 
room to the other as if he were made of india-rubber, 
and in spite of all he was bullet-proof. Finally he 
fled into the galley from which there was no way out. 
Of necessity he was caught. We made a dash for 
the room. It was empty. How did he get away? 
That was the mystery. 

“After looking everywhere we went off. Well, 
I can let you into the secret now because he told us 
the story. We had no sooner departed than he rose 
from the soup which was beginning to get hot, 
showed his head above the boiler, ascertained that he 
was alone, left his culinary bath, and concealed him¬ 
self under the vegetables in the store-room, which we 
had searched just before in order to make sure that 
he was not hiding there. What do you think of that? 
We didn’t dream of looking for him in the boilers. 
They were hot, and steam was issuing from them. 




248 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“How could we suppose that Cheri-Bibi was 
hiding in the soup which was cooking over a slow 
fire? Obviously it was not yet boiling, but he told 
me that it was high time for him to leave it as the 
poor fellow can’t stand a bath above 104° although 
he has a pretty tough skin. Oh, he had more than 
one string to his bow. I must add that he was 
specially assisted by one of his friends who was in 
league with him and managed to get himself and 
several coal-trimmers taken on the Bayard at the 
last moment, to replace men who had failed us. 
They all belonged to Cheri-Bibi’s gang. You can 
imagine how they worked for him! 

“The cook’s mate, who was responsible for cook¬ 
ing the convicts’ rations, was made messenger to the 
cages, though most of the convicts hadn’t the 
slightest idea of it. When the food was distributed 
on the chains and the men were occupied round the 
tubs, or when they left the cages for their exercise on 
deck, it was he who found means of slipping into 
their kit-bags the bottles of rum with which those 
gentlemen regaled themselves; and, later on, arms 
such as cutlasses and revolvers stolen from the 
armory or straight from the convict guards. This 
baker’s man was as artful as a monkey and as nimble 
as a pickpocket.” 

“Shall we see him also?” asked Mile. Nadege 
de Valrieu. 

“No, Madame, he is dead. We’ve lost him. 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 249 


Cheri-Bibi was exceedingly upset about it, for this 
youngster—he was young, not quite twenty-two, and 
had big blue eyes—loved Cheri-Bibi as a dog loves 
his master. He followed him everywhere, in all his 
misfortunes, and often rescued him from starvation, 
for he was full of generosity and imagination. 

“Poor little baker’s man, the victim of the feeling 
sacred among us all which we call friendship. Don’t 
be alarmed, ladies, I’m not going to shed a tear on 
his account. He caused us too much anxiety. It 
was he who, with the help of the coal-trimmers, paved 
the way for the mutiny. Ever since we sailed from 
the lie de Re he and they worked in the holds, 
making a hole in a bulkhead here and in a floor there, 
arranging ways of getting about the ship of which 
we were in complete ignorance, and fixing up hiding- 
places for Cheri-Bibi in boxes which we thought 
contained goods; hiding-places which we should 
never have suspected; and when Cheri-Bibi escaped 
they lent him clothes which enabled him to roam 
about the decks in broad daylight. Moreover, these 
were the men who, when the struggle began, stole 
the rifles of my brave warders and handed them 
over to the mutineers. You see, ladies and gentlemen, 
we were in a fine mess!” 

Having said which Cheri-Bibi beckoned his hearers 
to follow him on deck, in the manner of an official 
guide in a public building whose business it is to 





250 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


exhibit and to expatiate upon the curiosities of which 
he is the faithful guardian. 

Arrived on deck the pilgrims were filled with 
wonder. They might have been at a county fair. 
Small flags and festoons of Chinese lanterns were 
hung out on every hand. The Captain explained that 
after the terrible tragedies which had taken place his 
men required some diversion. Thus he had promised 
them an entertainment in which some of them would 
sing and some act in a farce such as is the custom in 
the French navy; and afterwards there would be a 
dance to the music of an improvised band. Then 
speaking directly to Miles, de Valrieu and Fontaine¬ 
bleau Cheri-Bibi said: 

“If you would deign to accept the applause of 
poor sailormen and be kind enough to contribute a 
‘number’ I’m sure that my men would never forget 
it.” 

How was it possible to refuse him? Besides, the 
suggestion greatly amused the ladies; and doubtless 
the entertainment would help to dissipate the strange 
feeling of uneasiness which weighed upon them 
though they knew not why. 

“Toper,” shouted the Captain, and the second-in- 
command at once rushed up to him. “Is every¬ 
thing ready in the cages?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

Cheri-Bibi added in a lower tone: 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 251 


“Do they know that at the first word I’ll have 
them shot where they are?” 

“That’s perfectly understood. Captain, and I 
don’t think they’ll need a second warning.” 

“All right, off we go to the Zoological Gardens.” 

The ladies stood round him; they wanted to be in 
the front row. They descended to the main gun 
deck. A deathly silence reigned in the cages. The 
visitors, greatly impressed, dared not utter a word. 
And for some moments they looked at each other, 
standing motionless by the side of the bars. 

When their eyes had grown accustomed to the 
semi-darkness which prevailed on this deck, they 
began to distinguish the details of the crude accom¬ 
modation in which the wretched men were crowded. 

“Poor fellows!” exclaimed Madame d’Artigues. 

The others also were moved to pity. “Poor 
fellows!” They asked about their beds and what 
food they were given, and wanted to know if they 
were well looked after. 

“Oh, of course they’re well looked after. There’s 
no mistake about that,” replied Chdri-Bibi. 
“Aren’t you well looked after, you fellows? Come, 
answer me. Is there a single one here who has any 
complaint to make? You see, ladies, they don’t 
answer, and not a soul complains! They’re quite 
satisfied.” 

Cheri-Bibi exhibited these men in the same way as 




252 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


the proprietor of a menagerie shows off his wild 
beasts and enlarges on their good points. 

“Come . . . Step out of the ranks, you 
Whiskers. Come here, Miser. And you, Spoon- 
face, over there. What are you whining about? Is 
it your rheumatism?” 

“What’s the matter with that man?” asked 
Madame d’Artigues. 

“He’s mourning for his poor wife, who met with 
an accident.” 

“Dear me, what was that?” 

“He poured some molten lead over her.” 

“Oh, the villain! You wouldn’t think it to look 
at him. See, Marquis, what a nice face he has,” 

“Yes, indeed, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his 
mouth.” 

“I remember reading about the case at the time,” 
said Robert Bourrelier. 

“It’s amusing to see all the notorious criminals 
whose trials were reported in the newspapers. Don’t 
you think so, Marquis?” 

“I do indeed, Madame.” 

“Say what you like, they were represented as 
much more brutal in appearance,” said Mile, de 
Valrieu. “It’s very funny, but they don’t look a 
bit vicious.” 

“This brute is not vicious, but when he is 
attacked he defends himself,” growled Cheri-Bibi, 
hurrying his guests along towards the other cages. 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 253 


He was carrying a stick, and he struck the bars with 
it as if he were a wild beast tamer rousing his animals 
from their lethargy. 

“Now then, stand up in the cages. Can’t you get 
up, you fellows? Don’t you see that we’re paying 
you a visit? Honor to the ladies! Come, Guillo¬ 
tine, Anarchist and Tuesday Night! . . 

“What do you say that man’s name is?” 

“Tuesday Night.” 

“What a funny name! Why do you call him 
that?” 

“Oh, one name is as good as another. Probably 
all his troubles happened on Tuesday Night. . . . 
You see that man over there. . . . Do you know 
what he’s called? His name is Lace Stealer.” 

“What did he do?” 

“Now then, answer. . . . What did you do?” 

“I don’t know, Captain.” 

“What, you don’t know! With a name like 
that! . . . You smuggled lace; of course you did. 

. . . Another case of dodging the Customhouse. 

. . . Stand up, Cow’s Tail. This one takes his name 
from Cow’s Tail Alley, where he committed his first 
crime. He had a fight with a policeman and killed 
him. Isn’t that so. Cow’s Tail?” 

“I don’t know, Captain.” 

“What, you don’t know!” 

Cheri-Bibi turned to the sergeant of the guards, 
infuriated. 




254 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“It’s very extraordinary, sergeant. The men in 
the cages know nothing whatever. How do you 
spend your time? You’ve got to make them repeat 
what they’ve done.” 

“How do you mean make them repeat what they’ve 
done?” asked Robert Bourrelier. 

“Well, the object is to force them to remember 
their crimes and feel some remorse for them.” 

“Look, Captain, at that man over there shrugging 
his shoulders.” 

“Is there a man here who dares to shrug his 
shoulders!” shouted Cheri-Bibi in a voice of 
thunder. “I dare say it’s some hot-head. I don’t 
allow men with hot heads on them to shrug their 
shoulders.” 

And as a grin followed this slightly hazardous 
figure of speech Cheri-Bibi lost patience. 

“What do you suppose will be the result of such 
conduct?” he shouted, beside himself. “You want 
to make me lose my temper. Devil take you all! 
Try to respect what is worthy of respect, and respect 
yourselves if possible by respecting the decent people 
who happen to be on board with you. If you continue 
to behave in this way, what do you suppose these 
shipwrecked ladies and gentlemen will think of you? 
. . . And now we’ve had enough of the main gun 
deck Let’s go below to the lower gun deck, but first 
of all I’ll show you Cheri-Bibi’s cell.” 

He took them to the famous alley-way in which the 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 255 


cells were situated. First he went to the cell in which 
the Countess had been incarcerated, and he pointed 
out the cavity through which she had escaped 
with the notorious convict. In the same way the 
concierge at the Chateau d’lf in “Monte Cristo” 
showed visitors the underground tunnel by which 
the Abbe Faria communicated with Edmond Dantes. 

“Here was imprisoned a wretched woman whom 
we have since hanged,” he said. “She had obtained 
permission to accompany her husband to Numea. 
You will, perhaps, recollect the story of the doctor 
who cut strips of flesh out of his patients, and was 
suspected of cannibalism.” 

“Oh, how horrible!” exclaimed Madame d’Ar- 
tigues. 

“Yes, yes,” said Mile. Nadege, “the trial was 
reported in the newspapers. Is the doctor here? We 
should like to see him.” 

“We hanged him.” 

“Good Lord, how many have you hanged?” 

“As many as were necessary to secure the safety 
of the ship,” declared Cheri-Bibi in emphatic tones. 
“This woman was, as I say, accompanying her 
husband, but she had occasion to see Cheri-Bibi, and 
was at once seized with a mad infatuation for him. 
It was she, chiefly, who helped the cook’s mate, of 
whom I was speaking just now, in his schemes for 
Cheri-Bibi’s escape. 

“Look at this cell, and now look at the other one. 




256 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


There’s no passage between them, is there? Now it 
was in this cell that Cheri-Bibi was imprisoned in 
irons, and watched by two warders. How was it. 
possible for him to pass from this cell to the woman’s 
cell and to escape down that cavity? It was done in 
the simplest way imaginable. Look . . . 

“The woman got herself sent below to the cell on 
purpose, knowing that this was the only unoccupied 
cell, and that as soon as she was locked in, she had 
only to go to work on this little contrivance.” Cheri- 
Bibi started to unscrew the bolts which secured one of 
the iron plates between two cells. “Don’t assume 
that this work was prepared by some miserable con¬ 
vict in his spare time. Not at all. It was done by 
the warders themselves—in the navy we call convict 
guards, warders. The unscrewing of the plate by a 
woman prisoner, who knew the trick and had done it 
before, caused no surprise to the two warders who 
were in the next cell guarding Cheri-Bibi and boring 
themselves to death. 

“Listen to this carefully: One guard said to the 
other, ‘Hullo, this is a bit of all right” as the face of 
the woman appeared when the plate was removed. 
. . . You can guess the rest. . . . The devoted 
cook’s mate was hiding behind the plank bed. When 
the first guard climbed over here to get to this spot 
which you see, the woman threw her beautiful arms 
round his neck and a bootlace as well, which the 
cook’s mate tightened with a will. 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 257 


“Astonished that the first guard did not return 
the second guard climbed over in the same way, and 
was at once furnished with the explanation which he 
was seeking. He understood and died, whereupon 
the cook’s mate, who had taken the precaution to 
obtain the key of the padlock from the Captain’s 
jacket—they would have done without it if necessary, 
be assured—had only to set Cheri-Bibi free, lock the 
padlock again, put the dead warders back in the first 
cell, screw up the iron plate, replace the key in the 
Captain’s pocket—I am always so absent-minded and 
preoccupied—and the trick was done. What do you 
think of that, ladies and gentlemen?” 

“Amazing! . . . Wonderful! . . . Extraordinary!” 

“That ass, Captain Barrachon, hasn’t got over it 
yet,” added Cheri-Bibi. 

“But don’t say such things, dear Captain,” 
laughed Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau in a flatter¬ 
ing voice. “Please don’t speak ill of Captain 
Barrachon.” 

“That’s true, I was forgetting,” growled Cheri- 
Bibi. “I mustn’t run him down before the crew. 
But there are times when I am very angry with my¬ 
self, you know. To be humbugged like that is enough 
to give one a fit, as my concierge says.” 

“Now take us to Cheri-Bibi. We must see Cheri- 
Bibi.” 

They left the orlop deck to mount to the lower gun 
deck; and here they saw more men in cages. The 




258 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


ladies acknowledged that these men did have the 
abominable faces of convicts. 

“Now look at that man over there,” said Mile. 
Nadege de Valrieu. “I shouldn’t like to meet him 
alone in a wood.” And she pointed to the distinguished 
Lieutenant de Vilene himself. 

This naval officer, the chief personage in the tre¬ 
mendous adventure, looked in truth at that moment 
extremely sullen. The condition of this man was to 
be pitied, for he was compelled to restrain the rage 
which filled him against the monster Cheri-Bibi, con¬ 
scious that if he did not succeed in mastering himself, 
or if he permitted a dubious word to escape him in 
regard to the peculiar circumstances which had 
reversed their individual parts, he might, perhaps, be 
giving the signal for a general massacre, and the 
shipwrecked persons who were visiting them would 
not be the last victims. But the prodigious moral 
effort that this condition entailed betrayed itself in 
his features, which by no means offered a welcome, as 
Mile. Nadege de Valrieu had at once observed. 

“You ought to be ashamed,” Mile. Carmen de 
Fontainebleau flung at him. “What did this man 
do?” she asked. 

“He didn’t do anything particularly bad, but the 
jury none the less brought him to book. Twenty 
years hard labour for attempting to murder his 
mother-in-law. Look at him, and believe me, it’s not 
pride or obstinacy or scorn which keeps him silent. 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 259 


He is tormented by a bitter regret, the regret that his 
attempt failed.” 

“Certainly all the men here have a wicked look.” 

“We are in the only spot on earth where we can 
really judge people from their actual appearance,” 
declared Cheri-Bibi in sententious tones. 

“Why so, Captain?” 

“Because a convict’s dress suits everyone per¬ 
fectly,” he growled fiercely. And he added with 
emphasis, turning to Maxime du Touchais: “Who 
can boast to-day that a convict’s dress wouldn’t suit 
him? A convict’s dress is the only dress that makes 
a man look as he ought to look.” 

Delighted to have produced a certain effect he 
passed on to the next cage. 

“The poor man is quite drunk,” whispered the 
Marquis to Madame d’Artigues. 

“I must confess,” she returned, “that he frightens 
me a little. . . . Have you noticed his face and eyes 
when he speaks to you? Oddly enough, it seems to 
me that the man himself, who isn’t very nice to look 
upon, is not a stranger to me. Of course, I may have 
seen his portrait in the newspapers. . . . Captain. 
, . . Captain. . . . Your portrait was published in 
whe newspapers, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes,” returned Cheri-Bibi, giving a start. “It 
w«s printed beside Cheri-Bibi’s when it was announced 
that I was to take him to Cayenne. . . . Look, there 
he is, your Cheri-Bibi.” 

He pointed to Captain Barrachon, who was in the 







260 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


financiers’ cage. Poor, brave, estimable Captain! 
He would gladly have died at the head of his men. 
His officers would have followed him to the death, 
and preferred a hopeless massacre rather than submit 
to the rule of a man like Cheri-Bibi. . . . But alas! 
they were obliged to stop fighting for lack of ammuni¬ 
tion, and to surrender in order to save the lives of 
the crew. 

“You conducted yourself like a brave man. We’ve 
nothing to complain of in you. You did everything 
that you could for us. You can remain at liberty on 
your ship.” 

It was the crowning insult of all—to have deserved 
Cheri-Bibi’s gratitude. Barrachon reflected upon his 
past weakness and reproached himself with it as a 
crime; at the very least as if it had made him an 
accomplice. More than anyone else he deserved to 
be put in this cage in which, in consequence, perhaps, 
of his pusillanimity, the wicked had imprisoned the 
good; and he had insisted on being confined with 
the others. He thought that if a brute in gold lace, 
as he used to say in the time of his humanitarian 
dreams, had in the early days broken the heads of a 
few of these convicts or strung them up at the yard¬ 
arm, this vessel belonging to the State would not at 
that moment have been under new management! 

The worthy Barrachon was floundering in the 
bottomless pit of a distraught philosophy with as 
many difficulties as the daring Cheri-Bibi had 
floundered in when he grappled with his new duties 





I 


A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 261 

on deck and talked about government, discipline and 
the necessities of his new command; in a word, of a 
position for which fate, unkind until then, had not 
accustomed him. But, after all, one gets used to 
everything. And by degrees life on board had 
resumed its usual course. Inside the cages the 
whilom free men began to assume the sickly and 
worn-out aspect of the slave in whom pride of race 
vanishes and brutishness appears. In the alley-ways 
the ex-convicts who were now free put on the look of 
authority, and, as conscientious warders of the van¬ 
quished, learnt without difficulty to make themselves 
obeyed. 

The hours slipped away between decks as they did 
of old, and Cheri-Bibi had cleverly made of them 
the last word in discipline. On the upper deck, 
in the cabins, in the crew’s quarters, on every 
hand where the bright light of day penetrated, men 
might laugh and enjoy themselves on condition 
that there was nothing to fear from their enemies 
below. 

Cheri-Bibi’s men like other bodies of men who have 
no intention of being taken by surprise had secured 
their rear. The same system was carried out as 
before, with the same punctuality, but with greater 
severity, for they had learnt something by experience. 
The same “watches” were called by the signalmen, 
and Barrachon saw the “warders” going the same 
rounds, and guarding the “old offenders”; and it 
would have seemed to the Captain as if nothing had 




262 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


changed on board but that the “old offender” this 
time was himself! . . . 

“So that man . . . the one in the corner who 
looks such an arrant fool, is Cheri-Bibi. Well, 
really I never pictured him to myself like that,” said 
Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau. 

“Nor did I,” added Mile. Nadege de Valrieu. 
“He looks to me regularly knocked up. Don’t you 
give him anything to eat, Captain? . . .” 

“It’s impossible that he can be the terrible Cheri- 
Bibi! He looks like a solicitor gone to the bad.” 

Captain Barrachon did not even turn his head. 
But a man in the cage stepped forward to the 
bars. His face was wrapped in bloodstained band¬ 
ages. Speaking in a firm voice he said: 

“My name is Pascaud and I am the sergeant of 
the military overseers. I was put in this cage like 
my fellow-overseers by the convicts who seized the 
ship. As to that man,” he added, turning to the 
Captain, who had risen to his feet on hearing Pas- 
caud’s voice, “he is not Cheri-Bibi; he is Captain 
Barrachon. And Cheri-Bibi is there! . . 

He thrust his hand through the bars and pointed 
to the real Cheri-Bibi, who burst into laughter. The 
laugh was drowned by an explosion of curses and 
insults, which arose from every cage. The prisons 
seemed for the moment to have broken into revolu¬ 
tion. Clusters of human beings hurled themselves 
against the bars, hung on to them, gesticulating, their 




A STROLL IN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS 263 


fists driven through the grilles menacingly, yelling: 
“Robbers. . . . Murderers. . . . Miserable convicts. 
. . . Kill us. We’ve had enough. ... Or land us 
at once. We don’t want your pity,” and other shouts, 
howls, groans and infuriated cries. 

The prisoners in the lower gun deck, suspecting 
what had come to pass, mingled the thunder of their 
clamour with that of the revolt above them. Like 
wild beasts whose fury is let loose when they struggle 
against an insuperable barrier, they gasped and 
foamed and rolled over powerless against the bars. 
Barrachon himself had lost his self-command and all 
sense of dignity during his captivity. He was no 
longer anything but a wild beast like the others, like 
all the others, who would gladly have torn their 
keepers to pieces. It was an awful and tragic 
spectacle and was repeated in the next cage, in the 
cage behind, and in all the cages. 

The visitors fled in dismay, and Cheri-Bibi himself 
followed them, stopping his ears. It was a stampede 
to the upper deck while the new guards, shouting as 
loud as their one-time jailors, besought Cheri-Bibi to 
give them the order for a general massacre. 

Cheri-Bibi reached the deck. Here he breathed 
freely once more and saw with relief the light, and 
the brightness of sky and sea, and felt a delight in 
life that he had never known before. 

“Poor beggars,” he said. “Give them double 
rations.” 





CHAPTER XI 


A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 

The ladies reached the deck in a state of terror, and 
it was some time before they recovered their 
equilibrium. 

“Oh, it’s frightful,” sighed Madame d’Artigues. 
“Did you hear them? Did you see them? I thought 
they were going to devour us.” 

“And telling us that story,” said Mile, de Valrieu, 
falling into a seat, “and trying to palm themselves 
off as . . .” 

“Yes,” interrupted Mile, de Fontainebleau, cutting 
her short, “that’s the most amazing thing of all. . . . 
Suppose it were true?” 

“Look here, are you taking leave of your senses, 
dear lady?” broke in Robert Bourrelier. 

“I say, do try to be civil. Anyway, you can say 
what you like but I can’t make out this Cheri-Bibi. 
. . . Did you recognize him, Mesdames? Come, 
his portrait was in the newspapers. . . . Was it any¬ 
thing like him?” 

“Well,” said Madame d’Artigues, “between our* 
selves, the Captain is much more like him.” 

264 


A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 265 


“Exactly,” agreed Mile, de Valrieu, with a shud¬ 
der. “He is the very image of Cheri-Bibi.” 

“You acknowledge it yourself. . . . Why, ever 
since lunch I’ve been saying to myself that it’s aston¬ 
ishing how the Captain resembles Cheri-Bibi. . . . 
Heavens, if it were true ... if it were true. . . . 
What would become of us?” 

She was quite pale, and the three of them were 
trembling with apprehension. Robert Bourrelier 
was obliged to talk to them and make them listen to 
reason. 

“Just like women,” he said, “you’re always the 
slaves of your imagination. To be shipwrecked is 
not enough, you must have a few adventures with 
convicts. Look here, really, have you lost your 
heads? Don’t look so scared. When the Captain 
comes I shan’t fail to tell him the reason of your 
fear so that we may have a little fun. A portrait in 
the newspapers! 

“Come, let us consider the matter seriously. The 
Captain said himself that his portrait was printed 
beside Cheri-Bibi’s. You take the one for the other. 
You mix up the two characters. The Captain’s hair 
is cut short, and many sailors have their hair cut 
short like Cheri-Bibi’s, and thereupon you fly off at a 
tangent. If all the men with closely cropped hair 
were either going or coming out of prison, Paris, in 
summer time, would be a branch establishment of 
Cayenne, and one would imagine, in the height of 




266 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


the season, that the doors of all the departmental 
prisons had been thrown open! 

“Come, be sensible. Consider the splendid dis¬ 
cipline that exists on board. How cheerful the crew 
are. Remember how kindly you were received. If 
all these people were what you fear them to be, I 
daren’t even tell you what would have happened to 
you after you had set foot in this hospitable ship. 
Do you follow me so far?” 

“Yes, that’s true,” said Madame d’Artigues, who 
in reality asked for nothing better than to be con¬ 
vinced. “We were silly. . . .” 

“Depend upon it, convicts wouldn’t mince 
matters.” 

“The day is not over yet,” the nervous Carmen 
thought it well to observe. 

“It is only beginning,” came from a voice behind 
them. 

They turned round and found themselves con¬ 
fronted by three officers, who bowed with every mark 
of politeness. 

The “old offenders,” now at liberty, had sent them 
the pick of the basket, which consisted of a forger of 
legal documents, a notorious poisoner, and a swindler 
who had misappropiated the funds of a religious 
society. 

The ladies were agreeably impressed by the cut of 
the clothes, the white gloves, and the society manners 
of the three rascals. 




A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 267 


The man who spoke first and possessed a pleasant 
voice went on: 

“Yes, Mesdames, the day is only just beginning 
for us, seeing that the entertainment is to be graced 
with your charming presence. The Countess is 
waiting for you to open the ball. May we have 
the pleasure of dancing the first quadrille with 
you?” 

The Countess! They had forgotten her. Yes, 
indeed, they must have been crazy. Had they for 
a moment remembered the charm and distinction of 
this great lady, who had taken them under her pro¬ 
tection, they would certainly not have given such rein 
to their imagination. And they laughed at them¬ 
selves, and Robert Bourrelier laughed with them. 
What could they have been thinking about? And 
then these young officers, such excellent fellows, so 
polite, so correct, expressing themselves with such 
good form. The ladies rose to their feet with a 
simper. 

“The entertainment! Oh, please forgive us. We 
had forgotten it. . . .We hardly know if we dare 
come. . . . The Countess has doubtless dressed 
specially for it,” lamented the delightful Carmen de 
Fontainebleau. 

“Not at all, not at all. The Countess, like all 
great ladies, loves simplicity. She came just as she 
was. And then, you know, it’s a little family 
gathering.” 





268 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


The officers offered the ladies their arms. They 
did not need a second asking, and now, entirely 
reassured, they went off with their partners. 

“I am told that there are no better dancers than 
sailors,” prattled the beautiful Madame d’Artigues. 

The forger of legal documents, with a courtly 
inclination of the head, modestly protested. 

6 ‘A poet said the same thing of German herds¬ 
men.” And in careful and measured articulation he 
quoted the poem. 

“Alfred de Musset! That’s Alfred de Musset. 
Oh, I love de Musset.” 

“How very fortunate. I know him by heart.” 

They reached the quarter-deck, which was artistic¬ 
ally decorated, and where a crowd was quietly 
waiting for the first strains of the band. The 
Countess came forward to meet the ladies and thanked 
them warmly for their kindness and amiability. 
Facing the band was a somewhat roomy space, and 
here the first quadrille was danced. One might have 
imagined oneself in a dancing saloon, or rather in a 
casino—by the sea, of course. 

Nevertheless, after the first polka, the newcomers 
could not help noticing the somewhat free and easy 
manner in which the men treated the women with 
whom they danced, and also the unconventional 
attitude of these women, who addressed each other in 
a language that the Marquis du Touchais’s friends 
did not always comprehend. They asked the 





A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 269 


Countess and their partners for a few explanations, 
and they were freely given. 

The feminine element here, it was said, was chiefly 
represented by the wives of military overseers, who 
traveled with their husbands everywhere, and, of 
course, unfortunately became habituated to the use 
of slang, owing to their contact with convicts. More¬ 
over, the manner in which they lived on board, the 
crowding between decks, had the effect of drawing 
this big family closer together, so that nearly all of 
them, men and women alike, addressed each other 
in tones of familiarity. As a matter of fact the men 
and women were extremely gay, and some rather 
coarse language was bandied from couple to couple. 

Between the dances a general movement was made 
to the refreshment bars, which were stormed and 
plundered. The visitors noticed the liberality with 
which the Captain had provided a most varied assort¬ 
ment of drinks and liqueurs. Some of the persons 
present drank out of the bottles; and a struggle waged 
round the cases of champagne. 

The band struck up again with renewed vigor, and 
the dancers entered the fray once more, skipping and 
pushing and shouting, while the expressions of 
drunken satisfaction on their faces were appalling. 
Moreover, the amazing intermixture of all ranks in 
an entertainment which tended to become more and 
more debauched “passed the comprehension” of the 
ladies. They had been longing to depart, but they 




270 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


were given neither the time nor the opportunity. They 
were always brought back to the middle of the elated 
crowd at the moment when they were endeavoring 
to escape out of the vortex. 

And then they received invitations which they 
neither dared nor had the power to refuse. Carried 
away on the arms of those whom it would have been 
difficult to resist, they resumed their places in the 
eddying throng. The Toper had a way of pressing 
Madame d’Artigues to his heart which at length 
greatly alarmed her. Carmen de Fontainebleau and 
Nadege de Valrieu, who had at first enjoyed them¬ 
selves, were amazed by certain familiarities. 

The three of them, out of breath, asked permission 
to retire, and they could not understand why the 
Countess continued to dance with this rabble, and 
allowed herself to be roughly jostled by couples in 
an obvious state of intoxication without uttering a 
protest. The Countess, indeed, was an extraordinary 
person. She whirled round and round with a smile 
on her lips, nodding graciously to the women who 
by chance floated near her during the quadrilles. Did 
she not notice the awful faces around her? Was she 
not conscious that the whole business would “end 
m a row ( 

Meanwhile, the naval officer who “knew de Musset 
by heart,” and who had started to recite “Rollo” to 
Madame d’Artigues during the first waltz, came up 
and informed the ladies that they could not be allowed 




A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 271 


to depart like that, for their grace and charm had 
won every heart, and the entertainment would be 
shorn of its attraction without them. 

The Pick of the Basket continued to express him¬ 
self in such choice language that the ladies could not 
pluck up the courage to refuse him anything. Never¬ 
theless, the crush, the noise, the brutish clamor 
around them had assumed such proportions that they 
admitted to him that they “felt afraid,” and dared 
not stay longer. The men about them frightened them. 
Moreover, they were exhausted by the excitement of 
the shipwreck, and the crew ought really to have some 
compassion for them. 

The forger of legal documents bowed and said: 

“There is a way of allowing you to go, and that 
is, if those ladies,” and he indicated Carmen and 
Nadege, “will perform the items in the programme 
that they promised us. Until you’ve danced on the 
platform, as our men expect, they won’t hear of it. 
Dance at once and you may disappear afterwards. 
Do you wish me to announce you?” 

Carmen and Nadege consulted each other with a 
glance. They took the plunge. Yes, they would appear 
on the platform, and afterwards, doubtless, they 
would be left alone. 

“I shall recite ‘The Blacksmiths’ Strike,’ ” said 
Nadege. 

“I shall dance my first two love waltzes,” said 
Carmen. 




272 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“And you, Madame?” inquired the Pick of the 
Basket, turning to Madame d’Artigues. “You will 
honor us with . . 

“Oh, Monsieur, I am not an actress.” 

“In any case, we should like you to appear on the 
platform as the men are relying on it.” 

“Your crew, Monsieur, is really an extraordinary 
one.” 

“Oh, you know, Madame, they treat everyone with¬ 
out ceremony, as the saying goes. . . . Obviously 
they are slightly lacking in reserve, but they are very 
decent fellows, I assure you. . . . They are merely 
a little malicious when they have drink in them, and 
that is why I advise you to give your performance 
soon.” 

“Yes, let’s get it oyer as quickly as possible. . . . 
It’s inconceivable that they should be allowed to 
drink like this on board a ship in the French navy. 
The whole thing is incomprehensible. Look, look at 
their faces, and the way they stare at you. It’s shame¬ 
ful.” 

“Come with me,” requested the Pick of the Basket. 

He hurried them behind the band where the ship’s 
company of actors were dressing and making up for 
some extraordinary farce which they were to per¬ 
form. A comer of an awning erected behind the 
scenes was placed at their disposal in case they desired 
to collect their thoughts, or to beautify themselves 
before going on the stage, from which the band had 




A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 273 


just been cleared. The instrumentalists took their 
places under the footlights, and the Top announced 
that the “performance was about to begin,” and that 
Mile. Nadege de Valrieu of the Odeon Theatre, Paris, 
Mile. Carmen de Fontainebleau of the Folies-Ber- 
geres Music Hall, Paris, and a society lady, an ama¬ 
teur, would at once appear in different parts. 

Amid perfect silence Mile. Nadege recited “The 
Blacksmiths’ Strike.” 

The audience listened to the end without stirring, 
and when it was over, after applauding, shouted to 
Mile. Nadege to give them a dance. There was no 
doubt that they preferred dancing to literature. To 
save the situation, Carmen appeared. In the ordinary 
way she danced her numbers very lightly clad, and 
with the assistance of a veil. In the circumstances she 
hastily threw over her costume a flowing robe which 
the Countess lent her. 

The moment she began to dance she was encouraged 
by loud cheers and enthusiastic shouts in slang, which 
put her on her mettle. She wanted, above all, to get 
the dance over. She thus appeared to be all the more 
eager, and truth to tell, seized once more by the demon 
of her art, she flung herself wildly into her love 
waltzes, the popular airs of which were sung in chorus 
by the convicts, swayed by their emotions. 

In the whirl of these pagan dances she showed her 
admirably formed legs, and her success was immense. 
She did not stop until she was completely exhausted, 





274 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


and she dashed behind the curtain amid shouts of 
applause and an almost frantic enthusiasm. 

“Now, let’s go,” she said. “It’s none too soon. 
I thought at one moment they were going to rush on 
to the platform and carry me off.” 

“Yes, yes, let’s slip away,” agreed Madame d’Ar- 
tigues in a trembling voice. “Do you know what I 
heard just now while you were dancing, Carmen? 
One of the men, one of the men here with the abomin¬ 
able face of a convict, said to another like him, for 
they all resemble convicts, every one of them: ‘The 
little girl sets me on fire. ... Of the three of them 
I should prefer her to fall to my lot.’ ” 

“Well?” 

“Well, what does a phrase like that mean? For 
my part I fear the worst from such men. . . . I’ve 
sent for the Marquis. Why isn’t he here? . . . And 
Robert Bourrelier . . . and my husband? . . 

“Yes, indeed, where are they? Why aren’t the men 
with us?” asked Carmen in increasingly anxious 
tones. 

“And what’s become of the Captain? ... If the 
Captain were here ...” 

“Not at all. The Captain frightens me more than 
anyone,” confessed Madame d’Artigues. 

“Ah, there you are, you agree with me now,” said 
Carmen as she hastily finished dressing. “Quick, 
quick, let’s make off. Let’s go and lock ourselves in 
our cabins.” 




A LITTLE FAMILY GATHERING 275 


“But how are we to get through now. . . . Hark. 
. . . It’s as though we were besieged.” 

As a matter of fact the clamour became louder and 
louder. The audience wanted the artists to give an 
encore, and the Top and Little Buddha appeared. 

“Don’t go out, whatever you do,” said Little 
Buddha. “Stay here if you wish to avoid trouble. 
. . . They are tipsy, you understand. . . . They all 
want to kiss you. . . .” 

“But how dreadful! . . .” 

“Dreadful,” he grinned ominously. 

At that moment they could hear the Toper making 
an announcement from the stage: 

“Comrades, the ladies are tired and ask you to 
excuse them (yells). I beg of you to be reasonable 
and have a little patience. The Bayard’s special com¬ 
pany will continue the performance, and lots will be 
drawn immediately afterwards.” 

The three women exchanged bewildered glances 
when they heard the last part of the announcement. 
They dared not impart to each other the feeling of 
dread which possessed them. Nevertheless, Madame 
d’Artigues, making an effort to appear calm, asked 
the officer: 

“Are there many prizes in the raffle?” 

“No, Madame,” replied the officer. “We haven’t 
very many prizes, but they’re splendid ones!” 




CHAPTER XII 


IN THE ABYSS 

After he left the prisons Cheri-Bibi returned to his 
cabin much exercised in mind by the new attitude of 
his prisoners, and realizing quite well that the little 
farce which he was playing with the shipwrecked pas¬ 
sengers was drawing to a close. Prompt in his resolu¬ 
tions, as becomes a man of action, he sent for the 
Toper and gave his orders for the end of the enter¬ 
tainment as far as the ladies were concerned; he could 
hear the audience over his head singing in chorus. 

“That will teach them to speak ill of Cecily.” 

No sooner was the matter settled than he dismissed 
the Toper, ordering him to send the Dodger to him. 

The Dodger did not come at once, and, beginning 
to lose patience, he pushed open the cabin door, and 
his eyes fell upon two men, who did not see him, but 
thinking that they were alone in that part of the ves¬ 
sel, were chatting over their own affairs. It was Baron 
Proskof and the Marquis du Touchais. Cheri-Bibi 
imagined that they were talking about the unforeseen 
incident which occurred in the Zoological Gardens, 
and the disquieting considerations which the revolt of 
the prisoners ,may have suggested to them. But he was 

276 


IN THE ABYSS 


277 


mistaken; he did not know these men. They were 
talking “women.” 

We have had occasion, more than once, since the 
arrival of the shipwrecked persons on board the 
Bayard to refer to Baron Proskof’s depressed condi¬ 
tion. His melancholy aspect was entirely to the 
worthy Polish nobleman’s credit, seeing that it was 
not more than two or three days since the Baroness, 
his precious spouse, was no more, or at all events, 
since he believed that she was no more. It was to no 
purpose that Maxime du Touchais endeavored to rouse 
him from his grief, representing to him that if anyone 
had cause for sorrow it was he, du Touchais, who had 
suffered so heavy a loss while the Baron at least still 
possessed the million francs. 

At the moment when their conversation was over¬ 
heard by Cheri-Bibi, Baron Proskof was launching 
into a eulogy of his wife. 

“She was a woman of superior intelligence, whom 
I can never replace, nor can you either, my dear 
Marquis, however much you may try. That Madame 
d’Artigues makes me quite ashamed. She is not worthy 
to tie the shoe strings of the Belle of Dieppe, as she 
was called.” 

“I quite agree with you, my dear Baron, but what 
is a poor man to do? One must be sensible. I’m 
still too young to settle down.” 

“Do you know what I should do if I were in your 
place?” 




278 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“What?” 

“Well, I should return as soon as possible to my 
wife, and wait quietly until I was positive that the 
Baroness was dead, for after all we cannot be abso¬ 
lutely sure of anything. . . . Look here, your wife is 
a very charming woman, and I feel confident that she 
would be delighted to see you again.” 

“That’s not what the ladies think. You heard what 
they said at lunch.” 

“What! Do you take any notice of what those silly 
ninnies say. . . . Aren’t you certain of the Mar¬ 
chioness?” 

“Certain of what? . . . Can one ever tell with 
saints? ...” sneered the Marquis. 

The remainder of the conversation was lost to 
Cheri-Bibi; moreover, he would have been unable to 
listen to another word. The Dodger found him as 
white as a sheet, stretched on his sofa. 

“Are you ill?” exclaimed the devoted baker’s man. 
“Shall I go and fetch the Kanaka?” 

“No, I want to see his wife first,” returned Cheri- 
Bibi in a whisper. 

“The Countess?” 

“Yes, the Countess. ... At once.” 

The Dodger informed the Countess, who came down 
in the interval between two Boston two-steps. She 
betrayed a certain anxiety when she found the Cap¬ 
tain so ill. 

“Shut the door,” said Cheri-Bibi. 




IN THE ABYSS 


279 


/ 


“But what’s the matter?” 

“Something . . 

He got up and plunged his head into a basin of 
water, and having thus collected his thoughts, ap¬ 
peared to be much better. The Countess watched him, 
completely at a loss, as he dabbed the towel on his 
forehead. 

“I say, listen to me,” said Cheri-Bibi, sitting down 
by her side and taking her hands. “I know that you 
love me, Countess.” 

“Yes,” she answered simply and sadly, “hut you 
don’t love me.” 

“I want to tell you, Countess . . . You were too 
late, you see, my heart was engaged.” 

“I always thought as much. ... It is the worst 
misfortune of my life.” 

“Let’s be brief, but let’s be frank, Countess. Since 
you love me, will you do something for me?” 

“Anything you like.” 

“Oh, yes, but . . . something . . . something out 
of the way. . . .” 

“Anything you like.” 

“Well, to begin with, tell me what you and the 
Kanaka did with the strips of flesh that you cut out 
of the patient.” 

“Oh, that,” she cried. And she withdrew her hands, 
and rose to her feet. 

“You see, there are things that you won’t do for 

99 


me. 




280 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


She retreated to a comer of the cabin as if she were 
afraid now of Cheri-Bibi and dared not meet him, and 
she said in a hoarse, muffled voice: 

“I know quite well what people say.” 

“Is it true? . . . Tell me . . . me ... Is it 
true?” Cheri-Bibi entreated her. 

She shook her head so wildly and fiercely that her 
splendid hair became unconfined and floated in dark 
waves over her shoulders. 

“No, no,” she said in a choking voice. “It’s not 
true, it’s not true.” 

“It was mentioned at the Assize Court.” 

“Oh, that isn’t true, either,” she said between her 
teeth. “No, no, they wouldn’t have dared . . . they 
wouldn’t have dared. . . . The judge let himself go 
a little too far, but he at once pulled himself up . . . 
at once. Our counsel told him that he had no right 
at all to hint even vaguely at such a thing when he 
was not certain . . . when there was no evidence. 
The incident was closed ... at once. Oh, if you 
had seen the Court. Women fainted merely at the 
thought of it. . . . Cheri-Bibi, I love you, and 
wouldn’t lie to you. I tell you again that we didn’t 
do such things. . . .” 

She dropped on the sofa beside him and wanted 
him to take her hands in his, but it was his turn to 
stand up. Fie paced up and down the cabin wrapped 
in thought, and then standing before her: 

“It’s a pity,” he said. 




IN THE ABYSS 


281 


“What do you mean, it’s a pity?” 

“Yes, it’s a pity. I had dreamed of giving you 
somebody to eat!” 

“I know whom you mean,” she said as she rose 
from the sofa and clung to him. “It’s the Marquis. 
I thought during lunch that you were going to do for 
him.” 

“Oh no, not at all,” he said; “that would have been 
too good for him. I tell you, Countess, that when I 
think of him I go clean off my head. I should like 
to invent sufferings . . . tortures for him. . . . Oh, 
I believed everything that was said against the Kan¬ 
aka. ... I thought that . . . Never mind, we’ll say 
no more about it, since it’s not true.” 

The Countess had an absorbed expression on her 
face. 

“What did that man do to you?” she asked. 

“He tore my heart out of me. ... Do you under¬ 
stand?” 

“Oh yes, I understand.” 

“And then he’s too fat, too big, too healthy, too 
happy, too successful. He wants a particular woman 
and he planks down a million francs for her ... he 
has everything. He’s a monster.” 

“Yes, yes, I understand you. ... Is he very 
rich?” 

“Rich isn’t the word. He has millions . . . mil¬ 
lions. What are you thinking about? Why do you 
turn your head away? Why are your cheeks so pale, 




282 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


and why is there a look of gloom in your eyes? What’s 
the matter?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“I want to know what you are thinking about.” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“Yes, you are. Something crossed your mind. I 
tell you that something crossed your mind. I saw a 
shudder at the thought of it pass over your face. 
Countess, tell me what the idea is.” 

“Never. . . . It’s too awful.” 

“Ah, there you are, you see. ... I insist on know¬ 
ing what your idea is.” 

“I should never dare to tell you. You yourself 
would reject it. Yes, you, Cheri-Bibi, would consider 
that my idea was too awful. And then it’s not merely 
my idea. It’s really a secret between the Kanaka and 
me; a secret which we keep because, believe me, the 
scaffold is at the end of it. So you understand why I 
can’t tell you anything.” 

“I see you want to keep me on tenter-hooks. You 
are trying to whet my appetite. You don’t love me. 
Countess.” 

“More than you think, Cheri-Bibi, and it’s just 
because I do love you that I can’t tell you anything.” 

“So it’s something more awful than I imagined.” 

“More awful than what?” 

“More awful than cannibalism.” 

The Countess did not reply for a moment. She was 
in a state of indescribable agitation. She could not 




IN THE ABYSS 


283 


meet Cheri-Bibi’s eyes. ... At last a few words 
escaped her in a murmur. 

“Yes, it is much worse than that. Oh, leave me, 
leave me.” 

Cheri-Bibi took her in his arms, and she was but a 
poor weak woman. She no longer resisted his desire 
to know. Nevertheless, she sent him to the Kanaka. 

“1 personally don’t mind. Listen, my Cheri-Bibi, 
I don’t mind your knowing it. I won’t stand in the 
way of his telling you about the frightful thing. I 
am certain that you will shrink from it. But if you 
ever talk about it, it will cost both of us our heads. 
. . . I give you mine, I give you mine. Take it.” 

She gave him her beautiful face and her white lips 
which could not have been more bloodless if the exe¬ 
cutioner had already done his work. But Cheri-Bibi, 
who thought only of vengeance, would not let his eyes 
fall upon the gift that was offered to him. 

“Countess, go and fetch the Kanaka,” he said. 

She fell back on the sofa in an attitude of despair, 
her disheveled head held between her clasped hands 
like a Magdalene mourning for her sins, and then she 
drew herself up and looked once more at Cheri-Bibi, 
wild-eyed. 

“I will go,” she said. 

But first she stopped before a glass and arranged 
her disordered locks; and then she hurriedly left the 
cabin. 

Five minutes later the Kanaka came in. He was 




284 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


looking yellow and his eyes were bloodshot. He was 
alone. 

“Where’s the Countess?” asked Cheri-Bibi. 

“She’s returned to the dance,” answered the Kan¬ 
aka, who kept his eyes fixed on Cheri-Bibi. 

“And we, where are we?” 

“We are making for the Gulf of Guinea, and every¬ 
thing is ready for to-night. The wreckage has been 
set aside for the purpose. We shall throw what is 
necessary overboard so that it will be believed that the 
ship went down with all hands. Then to-morrow, at 
the earliest moment, we shall proceed to fake a dis¬ 
guise for her.” 

“Do you think that we shall be able to coal and 
take in provisions at Cape Town without running into 
danger?” 

“It will be quite easy seeing that we have command 
of the ship, and need stay only for the night.” 

“What flag shall we fly afterwards?” 

“That remains to be considered. Personally, I vote 
for the Argentine flag. There are some forty of us on 
board who speak Spanish fluently. And then, as we 
shan’t stop anywhere, no one will want to poke his 
nose into our affairs. Once we reach the Malay 
Archipelago . . 

“I say, Kanaka, what’s the matter? You don’t seem 
to me to be yourself.” 

“The Countess told me, Cheri-Bibi, that . . 
“Well?” 

“Well . . ” 




IN THE ABYSS 


285 


“Come, make up your mind. Can you do anything 
for me?” 

“It’s something appalling, Cheri-Bibi, and you 
wouldn’t stand it.” 

“Tell me what it is.” 

“If 

ever you blab, the Countess and I would be 
done for, when we returned to civilization, which is 
a possibility that we must always reckon on.” 

“Do you take me for a spy?” 

“No, that I do not, but we’ve got to be careful. 
Besides, I must tell you that the thing may not suc¬ 
ceed.” 

“I don’t follow you at all, Kanaka, or rather I 
don’t know what you mean; but anyway, tell me, 
would he suffer?” 

“Would he suffer! I should think he would suffer. 
. . . I’m pretty well certain that you’d say he would 
suffer too much.” 

“You don’t know me, Kanaka. If you only realized 
how much I want him to suffer ... Go on, I'm 
listening.” 

The Kanaka went to the other end of the cabin, held 
his face between his hands, and seemed to be thinking 
desperately. Cheri-Bibi did not disturb him. At last 
the Kanaka raised his head. His face was yellower 
than ever and his eyes were suffused with blood. He 
was frightful to look upon. It was as though he were 
already the victim of some over-stimulation, partly 
cerebral and partly physiological, which had ren¬ 
dered him a hideous brute beast. 




286 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


He crossed the cabin with tottering footsteps, 
stretched out his arms, took Cheri-Bibi by the shoul¬ 
ders, looked around to see if the doors were properly 
closed, and bent over the convict’s ear. And slowly, 
slowly, with pauses and catches in his breath, by 
fits and starts, he poured into his ear the liquor of his 
diabolical secret. 

Cheri-Bibi seemed in his turn to be lost in a sickly 
exultation. His shoulders were convulsed, his hands 
trembled, his eyes became dilated, and the perspira¬ 
tion broke from his brazen forehead in great drops. 

At length the Kanaka ceased speaking and drew 
back, folding his arms. And Cheri-Bibi also folded 
his arms, and thus they remained for a space of ten 
minutes gazing at each other in silence. And then 
Cheri-Bibi fled, closing the door on the Kanaka, who 
continued to stand erect, his arms folded as motion¬ 
less as a statue. . . . Cheri-Bibi, in a few leaps, like 
a tiger, had mounted the deck. 

He needed air ... he needed to think things out. 
The songs, the choruses, the shouting and the dancing 
on the quarter-deck drove him away to the forecastle. 
And here, alone with sea and sky, he shut out the 
world and communed with himself. He walked in a 
circle, breathing hard, and he thought in a circle about 
the Kanaka’s secret, which he had determined to 
know, and which tempted him as the dream of do¬ 
minion over the world tempted Satan. He lifted his 
eyes to heaven as was his wont when he appealed to 
fate; the Fatum which he felt was always hanging 





IN THE ABYSS 


287 


over his head, and bearing down with all its irresis¬ 
tible force upon his shoulders. 

His exploits were so tremendous that in his in¬ 
genuous pride he regarded them as the one and only 
preoccupation of time and circumstance. He knew 
of no more remarkable or desperate calamities than 
his own, and in his cruel but childish imagination he 
was allied to those accursed beings in the history of 
primitive man—of whom he had read long ago at 
school—who were always in direct communication 
with the omnipotent God, whom they endeavored 
to reach by piling mountain upon mountain, or to 
appease by offering up the most terrible sacrifices. 

“Why do you subject me to this new ordeal?” he 
cried in a loud voice, as if he were addressing one 
whom he looked upon as his most relentless enemy. 
“Do you not know full well that I could not fight 
against this temptation? . . . The very thought of it 
burns me like a flaming robe.” 

He was off once more in his mad tramp round and 
round, halting a few moments later to resume his 
strange soliloquy. But it was to the Kanaka this time 
that he addressed his fervid speech. 

“Your words, Kanaka, are easily comprehended. 
. . . Even a child could understand them. . . . But 
my mind is racked by a deadly torment. . . . Hope 
gnaws at the pit of my stomach like a hound! . . 

He started away again like a man escaped from 
Bedlam. Then he stopped once more shouting and 
foaming at the mouth. . . . Cheri-Bibi, Cheri-Bibi, 




288 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


whence come this sudden delirium and anguish with¬ 
out apparent reason? Why those cries of terror and 
horror to which you give the blessed name of hope? 
. . . On the poop, between sea and sky, you seem as 
appalling, as menacing but also as awestruck as was 
Satan on the mountain before the temptation of Jesus 
Christ. And then suddenly you collapse! You plunge 
once more, with lowered head, into the inferno where 
the Kanaka, turned to stone, awaits you. 

Cheri-Bibi pushed open the door of the cabin 
wherein the statue stood, needing but one word to 
come to life again. And he threw this word at him. 

“Come,” he said. 

The Kanaka unfolded his arms, held out his hand 
to Cheri-Bibi, who grasped it warmly. 

And they parted without a word. 

On deck the entertainment was “in full swing,” 
as the saying goes. Mesdames d’Artigues, de Valrieu 
and de Fontainebleau, in their tent, were in a state of 
mind which approximated more and more to a feeling 
of dismay, for they became aware that practically 
they were prisoners, notwithstanding the strange words 
of politeness which the even stranger naval officer 
lavished on them from time to time. They had in vain 
endeavored to steal away. On the plea that the in¬ 
tense excitement of the crew would only increase, and 
that it would be dangerous for them to attempt to go, 
they were not allowed to move. The tumult of fierce 
shouting and foul songs reached their ears, and they 




IN THE ABYSS 


289 


threw themselves, affrighted, into each other’s arms. 

They called out loudly for the Marquis and the 
Baron and Robert and d’Artigues. Thus it was with 
a sense of relief that they saw Robert and d’Artigues 
hurrying in. But their joy was of short duration. 

Robert and d’Artigues had been as startled as they 
were by all that they had seen and heard. 

After the outbreak in Cheri-Bibi’s presence in the 
cages down below, they determined to obtain some 
clear idea of the position, and with that object they 
made their way into certain parts of the ship from 
which previously, it would appear, they had been 
deliberately excluded. They had thus been able to 
witness some rather amazing sights. 

To begin with, they noticed that there was an in¬ 
credible confusion and lack of discipline. Moreover, 
they had come upon a cordon of convict guards, who 
prevented them from setting foot into the alley-ways 
and cabins whence they could hear the cries and 
groans of women and children; of women calling for 
their husbands, and children calling to their fathers. 

When they sought to obtain some explanation, they 
were ordered to leave, the men jeering at them in 
ominous fashion and advising them, in their own 
interests, to show a little less curiosity in future. Bour- 
relier and d’Artigues, in trembling voices, had reached 
this point in their disclosures when Baron Proskof 
came in. He was in a state of such terror that he 
could not at first utter a word. Finally, they heard 
him stammer: 




290 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“The Marquis . « . the Marquis . . 

“What about the Marquis?” asked the beautiful 
Madame d’Artigues, in anguished tones. 

“Well, the Marquis has disappeared.” 

“How do you mean disappeared?” 

“He disappeared before my eyes. ... I can’t ex¬ 
plain it at all. I thought he was still with me. We 
were in the alley-way, not far from my cabin, talking 
of one thing and another, for we had slipped away 
from that awful entertainment, and suddenly, when 
I turned round, he was no longer standing beside me. 
I looked about, I went into the cabins, I shouted his 
name. He answered me, but his voice came from the 
distance, and after a moment he was silent, and it 
seemed as if he were choking. 

“He was undoubtedly the victim of some aggres¬ 
sion. The unfortunate thing is that I did not manage 
to get a clear idea of the exact spot where he was. 
The ship seems to be run as if the whole business is 
a matter of play-acting. Abominable things are hap¬ 
pening round us. 

“Into what sort of hands have we fallen? The con¬ 
vict guards are as much to be feared as the convicts 
themselves. Besides, where is the Captain? We can’t 
see him. I tried to talk to the officers. . . . They’re 
drunk. ... It was only with great difficulty that I 
reached this place. We must get away from here. The 
whole thing is awful. . . .” 

At this point the entrance to the tent was lifted and 
two of the three sailors belonging to the Belle of 




IN THE ABYSS 


291 


Dieppe, who had come on board the Bayard with them, 
rushed in. Their mate had just been stabbed in the 
heart and killed by one of the ruffians who was trying 
to take his lady partner from him. And as they 
attempted to avenge him, other ruffians sprang at them, 
and gave the whole game away. The Bayard was in 
the hands of convicts, and the man who had received 
them, as Captain, was neither more nor less than 
Cheri-Bibi. Cheri-Bibi himself! 

Madame d’Artigues sank to the floor in a faint. 
Carmen and Nadege uttered piercing shrieks. At the 
same moment their improvised tent was flooded by 
a yelling mob, who carried the three of them on to 
the platform, where they were exhibited to the fierce 
curiosity and longings of a crew of raving madmen. 
. . . They were about to draw lots for them! . . . 

Nevertheless, it was beyond doubt that the result of 
the draw would not be respected. Already those in¬ 
fernal faces were bending over the poor women, 
clutching them, snatching at them, quarreling over 
them. 

The gang of exasperated convicts who were unable 
to mount the platform, seeing that the men around 
had seized the women without further ado, and with¬ 
out a word about the lottery, let themselves go in 
infuriated shouts and protests. The hapless women 
were about to vanish under the constantly increasing 
flood of convicts and be stifled to death when an 
interruption occurred which saved them. 

A meteor passed through the crowd. There was a 





292 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


tremendous pressure, and convicts fell in heaps from 
the platform, leaving sufficient room for Cheri-Bibi’s 
immense fists to have full play and to let fly with the 
force of catapults. 

Oh, he was always a brave sight in battle was the 
terrible Cheri-Bibi! What a number of broken noses, 
torn ears, black eyes! What bloodshed and shouts and 
maledictions! But what a splendidly quick clear¬ 
ance. How they applauded him. All the men who 
were unable to get near the platform, and had aban¬ 
doned hope of receiving any share in the spoils, 
cheered him to the echo. . . . And the casualties 
crawling along the deck were turned into a general 
laughing-stock. And convicts know how to laugh. 

Cheri-Bibi called for silence. He was standing on 
the evacuated platform in front of the three terrified 
and trembling women, who hardly ventured to thank 
their deliverer. For, after all, what was he about 
to say? To what new torment were they to be 
doomed? 

“My dear pals,” said Cheri-Bibi, “I have been 
thinking things over. As these women can’t belong 
to all of you, they shan’t belong to anyone ( thunders 
of applause). I shall keep them for myself . . . 
{silence) with the sole object of preventing any harm 
coming to them . . . ( murmurs ) for I have just 
pledged myself to land them and the castaways from 
the Belle of Dieppe safe and sound at a time and place 
which will be fixed at the next conference ( threatening 
demonstrations. Cheri-Bibi folds his arms). Who 




IN THE ABYSS 


293 


dares to raise his voice when I am speaking? The 
idiots among you do well to keep their mouths shut, 
for I have serious things to say to them. We must 
turn over a new leaf. You must become men of 
character, self-possessed and steady, because you are 
rich. The Marquis du Touchais, whom we have had 
the honor of welcoming on board, agrees, in accord¬ 
ance with my suggestion, to ransom the persons saved 
from the Belle of Dieppe for a sum of five million 
francs.” 

At first there was a feeling of stupefaction, not 
unmingled with fear, before this yawning gulf . . . 
■five million francs. . . . They were dazed. And then 
they came to themselves and understood, and they 
burst forth into yells and stamped their feet and 
danced about like madmen. . . . They wanted to 
carry Cheri-Bibi shoulder high. He had the greatest 
difficulty in saying a word, a word to close the mouths 
of those fatuous imbeciles who never understood any¬ 
thing. 

“My pals,” he cried, “one last word. It is under¬ 
stood that the Marquis will not be released until we 
receive the five million francs. It is five million 
francs, or death” (tremendous applause ). 

“Well, Dodger, what do you think of that?” asked 
Little Buddha, as he dealt a heavy but friendly blow 
on the baker man’s shoulder, making him wince. 

“I know my Cheri-Bibi,” replied the Dodger, with 
a faint smile. “It will be five millions and death.” 




CHAPTER XIII 


THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 

During the following days a considerable change 
came over life in general on board. Order and dis¬ 
cipline held undisputed sway. Now that the convicts 
knew that they were rich, they welcomed almost with 
gladness the necessity of conforming to regularity 
and method. 

They worked with a will for the well-being and 
safety of the ship. 

The Bayard was re-christened Estrella , and flew the 
Argentine flag. Sure of his men henceforward, Cheri- 
Bibi relaxed from time to time the vigilance to which 
the families of the oversers had up to then been sub¬ 
jected. The women and children were permitted, as 
before, to play and gossip on the quarter-deck which 
was reserved for them during certain hours of the 
day. The prisoners were well treated and allowed 
out of the cages now and then, so as to have a breath 
of fresh air on the upper deck. The men with families 
on board were granted the right to communicate with 
them. 

True, the landing of the prisoners was deferred to 
some indefinite and far distant date. This and many 

294 


THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 295 


other matters had been decided at a conference which 
lasted for some time and to which most of the hot¬ 
heads among the convicts were convened. 

As a matter of fact it was impossible to set anyone 
whatever at liberty until the famous five million francs 
were received. Such a course would have proclaimed 
to the world, which believed that the Bayard had 
perished with all hands, that she was still sailing the 
seas with her cargo of convicts. 

Later on, when they felt some sense of security and 
were rich and safely sheltered in the Malay Archi- 
peligo, they would rid themselves of those embarrass¬ 
ing human packages whom they were obliged to main¬ 
tain from the ship’s stores. Fortunately the provisions 
appeared to be inexhaustible, and it would be easy 
to replenish them, by force if necessary, from one 
of the defenseless towns on the African coast where 
European civilization had set up its stores. 

The main thing was to land, at the earliest moment, 
Cheri-Bibi’s lieutenant, who was to bring back the 
five millions. 

Their choice had fallen on the Dodger, who had 
given proof of unbounded devotion to his chief, and 
who had been the main factor in liberating the con¬ 
victs. Moreover, it was conveyed to him that convict 
law would follow him in whatever part of the world 
he might be, if he failed to run straight and to con¬ 
duct himself like an honest man. 

The Dodger knew enough of the men with whom 




296 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


he had to deal to realize that it was impossible for him 
to escape their vengeance when once they had pro* 
nounced judgment. Moreover, he loved but one being 
on earth, and that being was Cheri-Bibi. 

He would have preferred not to be parted from 
him, but Cheri-Bibi had given the word and there was 
nothing for it but to obey. 

The Marquis du Touchais made every arrangement 
to render the Dodger’s mission an easy one. The 
Dodger would leave the ship possessed of the neces¬ 
sary papers and instructions. It would be his business 
to see the Marchioness and a certain solicitor in Paris. 
Both of them would be apprised by him, and receive 
written statements from the Marquis, warning them 
that the slightest indiscretion would cost Cheri-Bibi’s 
prisoners their lives. 

The reason why the amount of the ransom had been 
fixed by Cheri-Bibi at five million francs only was 
that as a result of the Marquis’s representations, it 
was regarded as impossible for Cecily and the solici¬ 
tor in Paris to realize a greater sum in bank notes in 
the comparatively short time—a few months only— 
which was allotted to the Dodger in which to complete 
the transaction. The bank notes would have to be 
changed gradually by the Dodger, before the Mar¬ 
quis’s liberation, so that there might be no question 
later of any trouble over the numbers. In short, they 
believed that they had omitted no precaution. 

For a time they were inclined to entrust this difficult 





THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 


297 


mission to Cheri-Bibi’s sister, St. Mary of the Angels, 
but not only was the poor girl in an alarming state 
of weakness, but Cheri-Bibi refused to allow her to 
be mixed up in this “murderous business,” as he 
called it in moments of nervous strain. 

They were steaming at full speed for Cape Town, 
and life on board was becoming somewhat monoto¬ 
nous when an extraordinary incident occurred which 
threw the crew in general and the Dodger in particular 
into a condition of unspeakable ferment. 

It may be mentioned that no one had set eyes on 
the Marquis again, not even his friends who were free 
to live on board as they pleased. They waited upon 
themselves, rarely addressing a word even to those 
with whom they came in contact, and whom, for that 
matter, they regarded with feelings of dread. But 
they were not allowed to go near the spot where they 
were informed the Marquis was confined. No one 
except the Kanaka, the Countess and Cheri-Bibi was 
entitled to see him. It was said that the Marquis had 
been relegated to a large dark cabin, next to the sick¬ 
bay, but that he was entirely isolated from the sick' 
bay itself by a makeshift partition. 

Outside the door of this cabin an orderly was posted 
whose instructions were to fire on any person attempt¬ 
ing to approach the door. 

Cheri-Bibi made an official explanation of the rea¬ 
son of this isolation. The Marquis was suffering 
from a contagious disease. 




298 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


It was at first thought that they had to do with 
cholera or yellow fever or something of that sort, but 
when they saw the Kanaka and the Countess go back¬ 
wards and forwards, tending the patient in what was 
a dangerous illness, and Cheri-Bibi visiting him, with¬ 
out taking any precaution, the crew quickly came to 
the conclusion that it was not a question of a sick 
person in the cabin, but of a prisoner representing 
five million francs who was being guarded with all 
the honors and attentions due to his rank and for¬ 
tune. 

The thought that possibly the Marquis was really 
ill, and that his illness might lead to death, did not 
unduly worry the convicts, for they were aware that 
Cheri-Bibi had already in his possession the papers 
containing the Marquis’s signature, and that if by 
ill-luck he were to die, they would none the less re¬ 
ceive the five millions even if they were reduced to 
handing over a corpse in exchange. But the much 
more simple idea of a carefully guarded prisoner, 
which occurred to them afterwards, afforded them 
considerable amusement. And they smilingly asked 
Cheri-Bibi from time to time for news of the Marquis. 
Cheri-Bibi himself, however, did not smile. 

Far from it. They had never known him so sparing 
of words. Moreover, he was hardly ever seen, but 
was waited upon in his own cabin, replying in mono¬ 
syllables to the Dodger’s anxious questions, and never 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 299 


leaving his cabin except to go to the Marquis or visit 
his sister. 

One evening the Dodger, who was looking out for 
him, feeling more and more perplexed by his curious 
attitude and his appearance of painful abstraction, 
saw him go into the Marquis’s cabin with the Kanaka 
and the Countess, but waited in vain for him to come 
out again. The Dodger was determined to ask a few 
serious questions, for he feared that Cheri-Bibi might 
fall ilL 

The Dodger’s anxiety was greatly increased when, 
about four o’clock in the morning, he saw the Countess 
come out of the cabin, her sleeves turned back to the 
elbows, and her face showing signs of agitation. He 
ran up to her at the risk of being shot by the orderly 
on guard. The Countess pushed him aside, hastened 
to her own cabin, and appeared again, with a small 
chest which she concealed under a shawl, returning 
once more to the Marquis’s cabin. 

Up to eight o’clock in the morning no one had yet 
been seen again. 

At length the Countess appeared accompanied by 
the Kanaka, who had a peculiar expression on his 
face. Nevertheless they both seemed quite self- 
possessed. They answered the Dodger’s questions 
about Cheri-Bibi by stating that he was quite well 
though slightly exhausted by his work with the Mar¬ 
quis, but there was no cause for alarm. 




300 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“You should tell him to be sensible and take a 
rest,” groaned the Dodger. 

“Cheri-Bibi is man enough to look after himself,” 
returned the Kanaka in icy tones. And he passed on 
without another word. 

The Dodger stood facing the mysterious cabin 
whose silence terrified him. No sound emerged from 
it. Even when the Marquis was in it alone, the Dodger 
could not pass its precincts without a shudder. And 
now a terrible anxiety held him in its grip as he 
thought that Cheri-Bibi, like the Marquis, might never 
come out of it again. A few minutes later an orderly 
appeared and requested the Dodger to leave the place. 

The morning of the next day passed amid fears that 
could not but increase. The Dodger questioned the 
guards who had been on duty at the door, but the 
men replied that they had not seen Cheri-Bibi go in or 
out. Where was he? Obviously he was still in the 
cabin. And what was he doing there? The extraor¬ 
dinary thing was that during the last twenty-four 
hours no food had been taken into the cabin. The 
Dodger’s alarm was imparted, by degrees, to the 
entire crew. Cheri-Bibi was no longer to be seen. 
They wanted to see him. They would have questioned 
the Kanaka and the Countess, but they too had been 
shut up in their cabin for hours, and were as invisible 
as the Marquis and Cheri-Bibi. 

Excitement reached its limit when the Toper, in the 
presence of the officers gathered together for lunch 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 301 


in the ward-room, opened and read a communication 
which the orderly on duty outside the cabin had just 
delivered to him. The letter contained three brief 
sentences from Cheri-Bibi: “You are instructed to 
obey the Kanaka in all things until you see me again. 
The Kanaka will merely transmit my orders to you. 
To obey the Kanaka is to obey Cheri-Bibi.” Under 
the three sentences was Cheri-Bibi’s signature; and 
then followed a few lines in the Kanaka’s hand¬ 
writing: 

“The Countess and I are taking care of Cheri-Bibi, 
who has caught the Marquis’s fever through looking 
after him. Cheri-Bibi’s life is not in danger, but it 
is impossible for us to leave him at the moment. I 
ask the Toper and the officers to remove any fears 
entertained by the crew.” 

The convicts looked at each other askance. The 
Dodger, who had come in for news, read and re-read 
the communication. The whole thing seemed so mys¬ 
terious that no one ventured to put forward any theory. 
The crew at once found themselves in a state of help¬ 
lessness, and a heavy gloom prevailed on board. 
Cheri-Bibi was ill. There was not a man among the 
convicts who would not have given a limb to save 
his life. It was certain that cholera was on board. 
And to think that they had been under the impression 
that the whole thing was make-believe! 

The men who, one after the other, mounted guard 
at the cabin door exchanged their opinions, and these 




302 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


were now circulating through the ship. The thing 
that surprised them more than anything else was the 
unwonted silence. 

When the Marquis and Cheri-Bibi were alone in 
the cabin, the guards did not hear a murmur, though 
necessarily the slightest conversation would have 
reached their ears. In the same way, when the Kanaka 
and the Countess entered the cabin, their visit was not 
followed by any talk which the guards could hear. 

The domestic services were entirely performed by 
the Countess, and these were reduced to very small 
proportions. . . . Hardly any food was taken in 
from outside, and it consisted only of a few basins 
of herb-tea and a little broth, and even so these were 
not required every day. It was as though the cabin 
were inhabited by ghosts. 

Nevertheless, on the final day a guard heard ter¬ 
rible gasps. He was not, of course, able to say from 
whom they emanated. 

As may be imagined, the appearance of the Kanaka 
and the Countess that day was impatiently awaited. 
Neither of them was seen, though occasionally their 
footsteps were heard. 

The Dodger, who lay awake for several nights, at 
last gave way to sleep, although he had tried hard to 
keep his eyes open. He was sleeping like a log when 
one of His friends who had just been relieved from 
mounting guard at the cabin door awakened him. 

The man had, this time, heard Cheri-Bibi’s voice 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 303 


quite clearly. It was a weary voice which said with 
a groan—at least the guard thought so—“Not his 
hands. . . . Not his hands.” The Dodger was on his 
feet in an instant. 

“Some accident has happened to Cheri-Bibi, that’s 
a certainty.” 

Since it was impossible for him to go near the cabin, 
he would make his way into the sick-bay on some 
pretense or other and by flattening his ear against 
the new partition he might perhaps hear something. 

He reached the place a few minutes later in a state 
of terrible anxiety, and as a matter of fact he did 
hear something. . . . The guard had not been dream¬ 
ing. Cheri-Bibi was continuing to lament, but—and 
this was the amazing part—his words, which on every 
other occasion proclaimed his personal suffering, 
were now uttered in compassion for the other. For 
there was no possibility of error; he wanted the other 
man to be left alone. Therefore, what was being done 
to him? Cheri-Bibi’s voice could be heard saying with 
a groan: “That’s enough as it is. Leave him his 
hands. It’s too awful. Oh no, not his hands, not his 
hands.” And thereupon Cheri-Bibi heaved a tremen¬ 
dous sigh. As to the other man, his voice could not be 
heard. No lamentation came from him. It; was in¬ 
comprehensible. 

Nevertheless the Dodger knew a great deal. During 
the time that he was associated with Cheri-Bibi, he 
was the recipient of many confidences from him. And 





304 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


when the Dodger learnt that one of the shipwrecked 
persons was the Marquis du Touchais, he trembled 
for the rich nobleman’s life. That Cheri-Bibi would 
be revenged on Cecily’s husband, by torturing him or 
having him tortured, was in keeping with the methods 
of convicts. But since it was the Marquis who was 
being tortured why was it Cheri-Bibi who was gasping 
and moaning? . . . And such gasping! 

The Dodger shuddered to the very marrow. 

At that moment he recognized the Kanaka’s hard 
voice: 

“You know, Cheri-Bibi, you must not talk.” 

“All right,” returned Cheri-Bibi, “I won’t say an¬ 
other word, but you’ve gone far enough as it is. Leave 
him alone. Don’t touch his hands, I can’t endure it. 
No, no, not his hands.” 

Three nurses, of whom one was a woman, had 
joined the Dodger, and they listened behind the par¬ 
tition without understanding what it all meant, but 
they had the sensation that something monstrous was 
taking place in the cabin. 

They would have liked to communicate to each 
other their impressions, their apprehensions, but the 
Dodger held up his hand in token of silence, and they 
resumed their listening. 

A hush had fallen once mpre in the cabin. 

They could no longer hear speech, or moan or 
gasp or sound. A quarter of an hour elapsed and the 
Dodger and his companions stood up, tired of listen- 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 305 


ing in their cramped positions, when the Countess’s 
voice, which they had not caught until then, reached 
their ears very distinctly. 

“If Cheri-Bibi were sensible,” she said, “we could 
finish the job at once.” 

“Yes, but he’s not sensible,” answered the Kanaka. 
“He has only himself to blame.” 

And then they distinguished Cheri-Bibi’s voice: 

“Leave him his hands, leave him his hands. You 
see yourself how much I’m suffering.” 

What were they doing to the Marquis’s hands, and 
what had the Marquis’s hands to do with Cheri-Bibi’s 
suffering? 

It was enough to drive him out of his senses, es¬ 
pecially as Cheri-Bibi was moaning again, and at each 
moan the Dodger felt sick at heart. The poor fellow 
was almost fainting. Moreover, the remainder of the 
conversation was not calculated to bring him round. 

“Oh, the devils . . . the devils . . . the devils,” 
panted Cheri-Bibi. 

“If you talk again,” the Kanaka broke in, “I shall 
be forced to gag you. Countess, pass me the gag.” 

“No, no, don’t gag me. I won’t speak again . . . 
but leave him his hands. Oh, he’s had enough of it. 
How I suffer . . . how I suffer.” 

The Dodger, who was trembling in every limb, was 
at the end of his endurance. In a hollow voice which 
fear had entirely changed he cried: 

“I’m here, Cheri-Bibi. ... Do you want me?” 




306 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


A great silence reigned in the cabin. 

The Dodger took up anew his appeal in more and 
more despairing and supplicating tones: 

“It’s I, Cheri-Bibi, the Dodger.” 

He showered blows on the partition with his fists. 
But at the same moment someone tapped him on the 
shoulder. The Toper stood behind him. 

The guard had called up the Toper, and by Cheri- 
Bibi’s orders “the Dodger was to be put in irons for 
twenty-four hours.” 

“Is it true that you’re having me put in irons, 
Cheri-Bibi? . . . You? ... I can’t believe it. 
Shout no, and we’ll come and set you free. . . . 
Cheri-Bibi. . . . Cheri-Bibi.” 

But no answer came from Cheri-Bibi and the 
Dodger was dragged away. 

“Damn it all. . . . What’s happening in that 
cabin,” groaned the unhappy man as he went off with 
the Toper. 

The Dodger served his twenty-four hours in irons. 
As soon as his time was over he hastened to seek 
information. There was nothing fresh. The Kanaka 
had not yet left the cabin. The Countess came out 
for a few minutes, ran to the galleys to warm some 
broth into which she poured some ingredient, no¬ 
body knew what, and returned to the Kanaka without 
answering the questions that were put to her. She 
was enveloped in an overall which covered a white 
smock-frock the lower part of which was bloodstained. 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 307 


and she was wearing gloves. Her face, it appears, 
was terrifying to see. She left in the Toper’s hands 
a written order: 

“All’s well. The Kanaka is my man. Cheri-Bibi.” 

“They make him believe just what they like, those 
ruffians,” exclaimed the Dodger. And he asked if 
any more wails and groans had come from the cabin. 

Nothing more had been heard. Ah, yes . . . the 
Kanaka’s voice was heard telling the guard at the 
door that the crew would see him during the day, and 
they needn’t worry themselves. 

“We needn’t worry ourselves! He’s a beauty, he 
is.” 

Of course the Dodger did worry himself. 

And then in his turn he disappeared. 

He went off and ransacked the Kanaka and the 
Countess’s special cabin. He found the medicine 
chests and surgical instruments belonging to the doc¬ 
tor who had died on the field of honor, in short, noth¬ 
ing of any importance. But he did not leave the cabin. 
It occurred to him that sooner or later the Kanaka and 
the Countess would return, and he would not be sorry 
to overhear their conversation. 

With this intention, he hid himself under a bunk, 
and waited patiently for some three or four hours. At 
long last the Kanaka and the Countess came in. They 
closed the door. They had the faces of ghosts who 
had suffered the tortures or savored the delights of 
the damned, and they quickly threw off their outer 




308 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


garments and removed their gloves. They were cov¬ 
ered with blood. It looked as if they had come from 
a blood bath. 

The Dodger, who was of a somewhat nervous tem¬ 
perament, uttered a groan and was on the point of 
fainting. 

The Kanaka and the Countess at once bent down 
and discovered the poor fellow, dragged him from 
under the bunk, and stood him as best they could 
on his feet. 

“What are you doing here?” demanded the Kan¬ 
aka, whose rage was terrible to see. 

His eyes sent forth angry flashes and his teeth were 
thrust forward as though he were about to eat the 
wretched Dodger, who trembled and leaned against 
the bulkhead but who was not devoid of courage. 

“I wanted to catch you out, murderer,” he cried. 
“Cannibal!” 

The Countess shot him a blow in the face with all 
her might. 

“Leave him alone, Ketty,” said the Kanaka, making 
a grab at the Countess’s arm, which had already 
started on a second journey. “Leave the poor fellow 
alone. Cheri-Bibi himself will see that he’s pun¬ 
ished.” 

“What have you done with Cheri-Bibi, you scoun¬ 
drels?” went on the Dodger as he rubbed his smarting 
cheek. “Have you eaten him, too?” 

This time the Kanaka sprang at his throat, and the 
Dodger panted for breath under his clenched fingers. 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 309 


“Beg the Countess’s pardon. Beg the Countess’s 
pardon,” he spluttered furiously. 

But the Dodger was unable to utter a word. He was 
choking. His tongue protruded from his mouth like 
the tongue of a man who is hanged. 

“Luckily for you, you villain, we caught you at 
once. If you had heard a single word of what’s no 
business of yours, your goose would have been 
cooked. Now clear out!” 

He threw him into the alley-way. The Dodger fell 
his length on the deck and lay there for a few mo¬ 
ments before he could recover his breath. The Toper 
and Carrots, who were passing, picked him up and 
he told them the story of his encounter. 

He went off with them, cursing the Kanaka and his 
wife, and declaring that things were happening on 
board which no one could understand, and they would 
all “suffer in the end.” His two “pals” dared not 
say a word in reply, but he was conscious that they 
shared his opinion. 

The mystery in which the inexplicable absence of 
Cheri-Bibi was enveloped was beginning to weigh 
heavily on board; secret meetings were held in every 
comer. Once more there was a disbelief in an epi¬ 
demic. Obviously it was not for the purpose of tend¬ 
ing patients in a fever that the Kanaka and the Count¬ 
ess were “dressed like butchers.” 

In short, the crew were agreed that at all costs they 
must know the truth about Cheri-Bibi. They must see 
and have speech with him. Such was their general 




310 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


frame of mind when the Kanaka sent to inform the 
officers that he was waiting to see them in the Cap¬ 
tain’s cabin. 

The officers lost no time in obeying the summons. 

The Kanaka received them imperturbably seated 
at the little writing-table, examining with seeming 
tranquillity of mind various papers, and the officers 
were at first reassured. True, the Kanaka was pale 
and seemed overtired; but all the same he did not 
have the appearance of a man who was the bearer of 
bad news. 

He opened by referring to their various duties, and 
asked several questions about the prisoners, the store 
of provisions and the quantity of coal still remaining 
in the bunkers. The Kanaka was the only man among 
the officers, perhaps, who knew anything about navi¬ 
gation; his knowledge was sufficient at any rate to 
correct the ship’s course, and to take command of the 
old crew who were obliged to continue their duties 
under pain of death. Therefore as a general rule he 
was listened to and obeyed. 

But on this occasion he had to deal with absent- 
minded men whose thoughts were concentrated only 
on Cheri-Bibi. They were surprised that he did not 
speak of him, since the state of his health was the 
only question which interested them. Their stupefac¬ 
tion knew no bounds when they received the order 
to retire. 

They remained in their places. 

The Toper opened fire. 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 311 


“Commander, we shall be in Cape Town in a few 
days,” he said with an affectation of great politeness 
and strict discipline. 

“Yes, what about it?” 

“Many serious matters will have to be decided.” 

“Well, what then?” 

“We can’t decide them without Cheri-Bibi. Com¬ 
mander, our men are very anxious about Cheri-Bibi. 
We can’t go on much longer without knowing what’s 
the matter with him. I felt bound to tell you that. We 
should like to see Cheri-Bibi.” 

“Yes, yes. We want to see him,” chimed in several 
voices. 

“Impossible,” replied the Kanaka laconically. 

“Of course,” said Little Buddha, “he may not be 
able to see us all, but we could delegate one of our 
number to see him. Look here, we’re not asking a 
great deal. Let the Dodger see him for five minutes, 
and then we shall be easy in our minds.” 

“Neither the Dodger nor anyone else. It’s quite 
out of the question,” returned the Kanaka obstinately. 

“Well, in that case, let us speak to him at the door 
and let him answer us.” 

“Cheri-Bibi just now can’t say anything.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he can’t speak.” 

“Then let him write and tell us what has happened 
and set our minds at rest. Should there be anything 
that must not be known generally, a couple of us only 
will read the message, and we shall be satisfied.” 





312 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“Cheri-Bibi can’t write.” 

“Look here, Kanaka, you’re pulling our legs,” he 
blazed out, forgetting discipline and losing the dignity 
which pertained to his new position. “You’re not 
going to leave here until you’ve given us some ex¬ 
planation.” 

“You can do what you like, but you’ll get no ex¬ 
planation from me.” 

“We’ll force our way into the cabin. . . .” 

“You can do as you like, I tell you. Only after¬ 
wards don’t come and claim the five millions . . 

“Oh, it has to do with the five millions . . .” 

“What do you suppose it has to do with? Let 
Cheri-Bibi work the Marquis in his own way. There’ll 
be plenty of time to ask him to explain matters when 
he has made the Marquis fork out the shekels. And 
now, gentlemen, I won’t keep you any longer.” 

They left the cabin with considerable misgivings. 
The Dodger did not utter a word. They asked him 
what he thought of it all. He shook his head and 
answered that he had his own idea. 

The crew became more and more alarmed. How 
was it possible for Cheri-Bibi to “work the five mil¬ 
lions” if he could neither speak nor write? 

Next day, after the Kanaka and the Countess were 
shut up with Cheri-Bibi and the Marquis for half an 
hour, extraordinary howls were heard proceeding' 
from the cabin. It was like a dog baying at death. Men 
crowded into the alley-way and all eyes were fixed 
on the door while the howls grew louder—louder and 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 313 


more frightful. Only a wild beast or a madman could 
howl like that. And this time they clearly recognized 
the Marquis’s voice, particularly when mingled with 
the yells they caught the sound of words babbled in 
pain though they could not grasp the sense of them. 

And then the howls changed to shrieks, to fierce 
barking, to wild sobs. And then suddenly they 
stopped. 

The crowd of convicts stood in the alley-way for 
another quarter of an hour with a look of terror in 
their eyes. And by slow degrees, as nothing further 
was heard, they melted away. 

Later in the night more groans were heard, and 
these also came from the Marquis. They did not 
hear Cheri-Bibi’s voice again. And it was this which 
produced a greater strain of anxiety than when the 
groans came from him. 

The Dodger, gloomy and sullen, did not leave the 
deck, nor did he answer anyone who spoke to him. 

One evening the lookout man cried: “Land on 
the port bow!” and the Dodger said with a sigh: “At 
last!” 

Some minutes later the Kanaka came to meet him. 

“Dodger, we’re near land,” he said. “In a few 
hours we shall be at Cape Town. You know that we 
are to land you a little below Malmesbury. Pack up 
your traps, my lad. We shall give you all the neces¬ 
sary papers, and you’ll find the complete scheme of 
what you’ve got to do written out in Cheri-Bibi’s hand¬ 
writing. Are you ready?” 




314 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


“No,” returned the Dodger, who had been nursing 
an idea. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I reiuse to take upon myself this job 
until I’ve had a final interview with Cheri-Bibi.” 

“You’ve made up your mind?” 

“I’ve made up my mind.” 

“Can I tell Cheri-Bibi so?” 

“By all means, Kanaka. . . .” 

The crew were soon aware that the two men were 
at variance, and they considered that the Dodger was 
in the right. Excitement was general, and there was 
no doubt that the most reckless among them were in¬ 
clined to take extreme measures when the Kanaka 
came back and said simply: 

“Cheri-Bibi will see the Dodger before he goes.” 

The crew gave way to shouts of joy and cheers. 

The Dodger left them to pack up his things in a 
state of great emotion. It was quite dark when the 
Kanaka came to fetch him. The Dodger followed 
him trembling in every limb. At last the cabin door 
was opened; and the Toper, Little Buddha, the Top 
and Carrots waited outside to hear the result of the 
interview. 

When he first entered the cabin the Dodger could 
distinguish absolutely nothing. No light was burn¬ 
ing. Then gradually, as his eyes grew accustomed 
to the darkness, he saw by the faint glimmer that fil¬ 
tered through the port hole, the upstanding outline of 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 315 


the Countess, and afterwards, at his right and left, 
two bodies lying on bunks, or rather two mere shad¬ 
ows deprived of all power of movement. 

He could not have said which was Cheri-Bibi and 
which was the Marquis. 

The sound of Cheri-Bibi’s voice soon put an end 
to his doubts. 

“Sit down here, Dodger.” 

A chair was drawn up, and as he dropped into it 
he whispered: 

“Cheri-Bibi!” 

“So you wanted to see me before you go, my dear 
fellow.” 

“My dear Cheri-Bibi. . . . Have you been very 
ill, then? . . . Are you getting better now? . . . 
Give us your fist, old pal.” 

“No, no,” interposed the Kanaka. “Stay where 
you are, you mustn’t touch his hand. You mustn’t 
touch him.” 

“It’s not allowed,” agreed Cheri-Bibi. “You see 
I’m suffering from some contagious disease . . 

“I can’t see anything, it’s too dark,” groaned the 
Dodger. “I’d like to see your face ... to make 
sure that you’re not off color.” 

“You can’t have a light. I can’t allow it for the 
present,” broke in the Kanaka again. “He mustn’t 
tire his eyes.” 

“But, good Lord, what’s the matter with you?” 

“I’ll tell you that later on. Dodger. . . . Now we 
must talk of serious things. . . . And be quick about 





316 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


it, for the Kanaka, who knows his business as a doc¬ 
tor, won’t give us more than five minutes.” 

“Five minutes. . . . How weak your voice is. 
. . . I can scarcely recognize it. . . . You must 
have had a bad time, old man.” 

“He is weak. . . . That’s quite true. . . . Don’t 
tire him,” said the Kanaka. “Get on with it.” 

“As to the Kanaka,” said Cheri-Bibi, speaking with 
some difficulty, as if it hurt him to move his jaws and 
he was too exhausted to articulate his words clearly. 
“You must tell the Toper and the others that the 
Kanaka has looked after me well and saved my life, 
and they must carry out his orders in any and every¬ 
thing. . . . Now listen carefully. The Kanaka saved 
my life. That’s worth a bit. He must have a million 
francs for himself.” 

“The others will never agree to that,” said the 
Dodger. 

“You needn’t tell them and they won’t know about 
it. The Marquis, who is very generous and whom the 
Kanaka has also looked after well, agrees with me 
that ‘it’s worth a million.’ You’ll see it all set out in 
the papers. It’s six millions that’ll be handed over 
to you, one million for the Kanaka apart from the 
other money. . . . Now listen to this: By the time 
you come back I hope to be well again, but if I am 
not ... we must look ahead ... if ... if I’m 
dead . . .” 

“Don’t talk like that . . . don’t say that. . . . I’d 
much rather stay behind . . .” groaned the Dodger. 




THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 317 


“Well, if anything does happen to the Marquis or 
me, or to both of us, you will be carrying out my last 
wishes by giving the Kanaka a million francs without 
letting anyone know about it. . . . Is that under¬ 
stood?” 

“That’s understood,” agreed the Dodger in solemn 
tones. And he turned towards the other body lying 
in the darkness on the opposite side, but the Marquis 
was as motionless as if he were dead. 

“You are artful and have your wits about you,” 
went on Cheri-Bibi with a sigh. “If you follow the 
instructions that I’ve written out, you won’t run into 
any danger, and it will be as easy for you to get the 
money as it is for a workman to draw his wages on 
pay day. You will be put ashore to-night. Don’t show 
yourself for a couple of days, and then we shall be 
some distance away. If anyone asks for your papers 
you can say that you left the Estrella while she was 
coaling to go on the spree, and you haven’t got any. 
They made you drunk and you’re a Frenchman who 
wants to be sent home. . . . You’ll pull through 
right enough.” 

“Yes, you needn’t worry about that. I wasn’t born 
yesterday, you may be sure. Everything will be all 
right, never fear.” 

“I know you, old man. You have a knack of get¬ 
ting through difficulties. You musn’t dawdle. We’ll 
give you five months to the day. Five months from 
now we shall wait for you for two or three weeks at 
Palmerston in the Northern Territory of South Aus- 





318 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


tralia. It’s a nice little place which I know well, and 
it’s as quiet as can be. You can write to me as in¬ 
structed in the papers, addressing me poste restante. 
To get back you must take the China boat and stop 
at Batavia. There is a service of steamers between 
Batavia and Palmerston. Do you follow me?” 

“I understand. . . . Five months. . . . That’s a 
long time without seeing you.” 

“Afterwards you shan’t leave me, my dear old 
Dodger.” 

“Have you finished?” asked the Kanaka. 

“Oh, give us another minute longer, you know,” 
begged the Dodger, who felt an inclination to weep. 

Cheri-Bibi seemed to make an effort, and he said 
with a deep sigh: 

“You will have the luck to see Cecily. . . . Well, 
have a good look at her . . . look at her for me. 
. . . And when you come back you’ll be able to tell 
me if she is as beautiful as ever.” 

“Well, he doesn’t trouble himself much about the 
Marquis,” thought the Dodger. And he turned his 
eyes once more to him, but the Marquis still main¬ 
tained his deathlike attitude. “I don’t like the look 
of it,” he said to himself. . . . “Sure enough he’s 
kicked the bucket already. . . . Why doesn’t he 
stir?” 

But the Kanaka interrupted his reflections and 
made him get up. 

“Good-bye, Dodger.” 

“Good-bye, Cheri-Bibi. . . . I’d very much like to 





THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT 


319 


shake hands with you before I go. . . . Isn’t there 
any chance?” 

“No,” said the Kanaka. 

“All right, all right. I’m off. Good-bye, Cheri- 
Bibi, good-bye. . . . Get better soon.” 

And he allowed himself to be put outside the door 
as he burst into sobs. 

The Estrella stopped that night. A long-boat was 
lowered and soon landed the Dodger on a lonely part 
of the coast. 

“Good luck,” cried the Kanaka, who had accom¬ 
panied him so far. 

“Good luck. . . . Look after Cheri-Bibi and you 
can count me as your friend.” 

The long-boat’s crew were already pulling hard for 
the Estrella , whose lights could be discerned a few 
cable-lengths away. 

“A million francs,” said the Dodger to himself, 
thinking of the Kanaka. “Well, there’s a sudden 
death merchant who doesn’t look after the poor for 
nothing. . . . His prescriptions cost a bit!” 

And he plunged into the bush. 

• ••••••* 


EXTRACT FROM THE TIMES 

(From our Special Correspondent) 

Singapore. 

“It is officially announced that an end has been 
made at last of the notorious Bayard and her convict 




320 


WOLVES OF THE SEA 


crew. The French cruiser La Gloire, which was on 
her track during the whole of last year, and from 
which she succeeded in escaping in the many groups 
of island of the Malay Archipelago, came up with 
her in the Molucca Sea, near the Sula Islands. La 
Gloire at once opened fire. A quick engagement 
ensued, and the Bayard was blown up. Three-fourths 
of the crew were drowned. The remainder, who had 
taken to the boats and were attempting to escape, pre¬ 
ferred to be shot rather than to surrender. La Gloire 
picked up over a hundred dead bodies, among which 
they were able to identify the leader of the gang, the 
Kanaka, and the Countess, his terrible wife. It is 
known that the Kanaka took over the position of 
Captain of these abominable pirates after Cheri- 
Bibi’s strange disappearance. Thus ends the astound¬ 
ing organisation which has occupied the attention of 
the whole world for such long months, and which 
terrorised the entire China Seas; but the fact remains 
that the infamous Cheri-Bibi is still at large; for on 
the best of authority it can be stated that he left the 
S. S. Bayard some weeks before she was sunk.” 

The amazing circumstances in which Ch6ri-Bibi was able to 
impersonate the Marquis du Touchais, and the further adventures 
of this extraordinary character are told in “Missing Men,” which 
will be published shortly. 







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